Purrfect Love
by ridiculouslyromantic
Summary: AU from around S307 onwards. Brian has urgent news for Justin, and visits him at Ethan's apartment. Justin breaks up with Ethan, Brian makes a hairy little friend, and after a bit of nail-biting they all live happily ever after
1. Chapter 1

I am sitting on the top landing, trying to decide which lady will be the lucky one tonight, when he turns the corner below. Tension lines the slightly hunched-over form as he keeps his arms close to his sides, hiding his hands in deep pockets. In spite of the rigid limbs, he moves with a smooth grace, the dark head held high with a pride and presence that is too big for the meager surroundings in which he finds himself.

I tilt my head to one side and, staring down, I study him with keen interest. I am no fashion queen, but I do have good taste, and I wouldn't mind curling up in that ankle-length black coat. Definitely not cheap and definitely much better than what I have to put up with. My living conditions are becoming more unacceptable by the day, and I make a mental note to take it up with my roommate again.

Ethan is always complaining about not having enough money, but these days our place looks like a school girl's bedroom, candles and flowers everywhere. There is only so much one can salvage off the streets, and fresh red roses, on a daily basis, is not on the list. I can say a lot of things about the violinist, but I've never known him to be a thief. Well... okay. I guess that depends on the context, because he _did_ take Justin, who was not his to have.

The lanky frame is halfway up the stairs before he notices me, which is a bit insulting. I am the most beautiful in the territory and not used to being part of the scenery.

However, he seems troubled, an unfocused look in his eyes revealing he is miles away. Or at least, he would prefer to be anywhere but here, and it's got little to do with his obvious disgust at being in a run-down apartment building. There is a sadness... a shadow around his mouth that touches me... and I'm not the touchy-feely type. Clearly, there is a lot on his mind, and none of it is about anything pleasant. The strong chin is set in defiance, and I notice the cheek muscles straining. He is fighting strong emotions, much more than just the sadness, which I sense is a permanent companion.

When his eyes finally clear and meet mine... they are beautiful, the color of dark earth after the rain, littered with small flecks of sunshine.

By now, I'm too intrigued to confront him about his lack of attention.

Climbing another couple of steps, he doesn't stop before we draw level, his gaze arrogantly locking with mine. His counter-challenge is clear. But, I must admit, I would have been disappointed if he hadn't acknowledged my dare.

I am not into male-on-male action, but I do appreciate all things beautiful. Probably Ethan's influence. I guess living with two queer artists has rubbed off on me, and if I have to be honest with myself... especially Justin. I can just hear his voice, his excitement if he saw this magnificent creature. He would go for days and nights without sleep, trying to capture the intensity, the human being hidden behind the haughty posterior. There is something about the stranger that seems familiar, and that reminds me of the blond painter... They should hit it off like an electric thunderstorm, and I suddenly wish for it to happen, that I could see them meet.

He blatantly looks me over, and my hair bristles. No need to get cocky about it. Leader of the pack, he has alpha male oozing out of his pores, and it fits him well... as it does me. It's a good thing he is not from around here. I'd much rather us be friends. Not that I'd ever turn down a fight, but it is extremely tedious, and so unnecessary. After all, I always win. And it would be a real shame to scar those handsome features.

He is the first to move, quirking an eyebrow. I smirk and blink back at him, surprised when the stoic face breaks into a broad grin. Judging from the dark scowl, I'd thought he was going to ignore me again.

I stand my ground when he brushes pass me, my nose twitching at the scent of him.

Oh, my.

_Sex, heat, sweat, desire... He is hunting._

I perk up, immediately losing all interest in my own plans. Trouble is wrapped more snugly around the gorgeous body than that very pretty cashmere scarf of his, and the promise of it sends sparks up my spine.

It had been getting really boring around here lately, not to mention the increase in my irritation at the drastic changes made to my lifestyle. It was just assumed that I would give up my favorite chair, my side of the bed. It was taken from me without even asking.

I didn't take much notice when the blond boy started coming 'round more often. Except for me, Ethan has never let anyone else move in. Besides, I know Ethan. That lamenting piece of wood that he is so weird about is the only thing that can keep his attention for any real length of time.

The charming pout he manipulated the kid with, trying to convince him to spend the night, wasn't born from the nauseatingly mushy reasoning he kept feeding Justin with. Ethan was fuming because Justin wasn't his. It was eating away at his gut like a cancer that someone else had more power over the teenager than he had, and that he was... oh, this is delicious... Ethan Gold was playing second fiddle!

Justin, for his part, didn't make a good first impression on me, even though his touch was soft and warm when we met. They weren't aware that I was listening when he mentioned during his first visit that he lived with his boyfriend. He didn't even try to avoid Ethan's not so subtle prodding for more details about the problems they were having, and I thought it in bad taste that he was sharing with a complete stranger what should only be discussed between his partner and himself.

Ethan, of course, didn't miss a beat and flirted shamelessly. Underlying those honey words of his was bitchy innuendo that Justin wasn't appreciated and was entitled to much more. The poor boy didn't stand a chance. It was clear that he was overwhelmed by the attention, and I didn't need to open more than one eye to see that he was in over his head, even though he left with only whispered promises. He would be back. Even if he didn't realize it, he was smitten. It was disgusting.

Justin was nervous that afternoon when he asked Ethan to play for him, to solo him with something romantic. But there was a determined set to his jaw that marked the start of what I could tell him, had he only asked, would be a very rocky road. He had made up his mind that he was going to have Ethan, but he wasn't prepared to leave his boyfriend. He didn't even want to discuss it, and just continued to side-step Ethan's sullenness.

I am convinced that he firmly believed, at that time, that he could have Ethan and keep his partner, and the comfortable lifestyle that was part and parcel of their relationship. Swooned and fawned over by Ethan, and fabulous sex at home anytime he wanted it. The mystery man in his life was apparently the stud of Pittsburgh, knee-weakeningly handsome and _the_ best fuck, if Justin was to be believed. Ethan was seething with jealousy but kept his cool. Justin was skittish but definitely interested, and Ethan enjoyed his new toy slowly, seducing him with maestro strokes.

None of this would have bothered me if not for the fact that Ethan wasn't the only one climbing the walls because of Justin selfishly buttering his bread on both sides. It didn't matter how many times I asked him, it didn't matter how polite or spitting mad I was about it, he went out of his way to make my life as miserable as his was by making that hideous thing wail more than ever, for hours and hours and hours on end. I had little choice but to flee the apartment for long periods of time just to get some peace and quiet, and for that I won't forgive him easily. Not for having driven me from my home in the middle of winter.

But then Ethan won, apparently. I was on my way out when Justin staggered in that night, blue eyes all red, face puffy and swollen from crying all the way over to our place. Such a display of emotion was unnerving, not to mention degrading. I still shudder at the mere thought that he had been out in public looking like that.

Of course, Ethan was so sympathetic and so understanding and so loving and so grateful... and Justin, hurting and disillusioned and having only himself to blame, was lapping it up like a pathetic little puppy. Romance, indeed... _never_ when there is cock involved. Fags will do anything to get laid. Problem was, Ethan was saying all the right things, whereas Justin's sex god apparently never said anything at all and only fucked him senseless. I have still not been able to work out why that had been a problem.

Justin didn't leave us again, and for a while it went well. Both of them seemed happy – I certainly was. They were spending so much time staring into one another's eyes that Ethan almost never practiced anymore.

It took a while for the blond to settle in. For a long time, I could sense his discomfort, not being quite at home, and I always wondered. Sure, when he left his partner, he swore to Ethan that it was over, and that he was in love with Ethan, and Ethan only. But there was a look in his eyes, a wistful tone in his voice when he and I chatted alone. He never spoke to Ethan about... Brian. But I knew all about Brian long before Ethan even knew the name of his adoring admirer's ex.

Ethan only found out because Justin cried it out in his sleep one night. His new boyfriend didn't take that well, not well at all. Justin had to grovel for days before the fiddler relented to speak to him again. The make-up sex thereafter... the moaning that followed qualified as their most off-putting sounds yet. Justin was even louder and more enthusiastic than Ethan, and it was usually the other way around. I got the impression he was a bit too into it. There was a false tone to his cries that made me think he wasn't "making love" – whatever the fuck that is – but working at convincing Ethan it was only the two of them, that there was no fucking hot ghost haunting him.

As it turned out, I had to review my opinion of the boy.

He spent much of his time at home, making funny marks on paper with those thin sticks of his, and we got to know each other well. To me, paper had always been entertainment, part of my recreation, and I was fascinated by the colors he kept splurging onto the white surfaces. He saw my interest and laughed when I cautiously approached, hoping to try it out for myself.

Truth be told, he is much too good for Ethan.

I know the violin-king-wannabe. I knew it was only a matter of time and, indeed, he didn't disappoint me.

Justin's crush intensified, and Ethan lost interest. Pride, however, kept him from pulling his dick out of the blond's ass and giving him the boot. Figuratively speaking, of course, because Justin never let Ethan top him. It was no mean feat to have outshined the mighty Brian Kinney, and Ethan was struggling with keeping his prize and giving up his freedom in the process. So, he did the next best thing... took both.

I never told Justin about Ethan's extracurricular activities. It was none of my business. But I was amazed at his naivete. Ethan went after him even though he knew Justin was in a relationship – What would stop him from doing the same thing to Justin?

Of course, it's not like I want the young artist to get hurt. In fact, he's fucking adorable, and if I could I would blush at having to admit that he has a little bit of my heart mixed in with all those colors of his.

Still... I'm bored. Besides, Ethan can't continue fucking around on Justin. And, if the truth happens to come out, accompanied by a spectacular show of fireworks... I am going to be in the front row.

Footsteps echo down the short passage, and I quickly follow as my new associate heads straight for my apartment, my tail quivering with excitement.

This is going to be _good_.


	2. Chapter 2

_Justin PoV_

"Ethan, I said not now!"

My voice betrays my irritation, and I immediately try to undo the damage, dreading the hurt on his face and the sulking and accusations that will inevitably follow.

"Look, I need to finish this. Just give me half an hour, okay?" I know that's not going to be enough time, but I'll worry about it again in another 30 minutes.

He skulks away from me and I can suddenly breathe. What the _fuck_? Since when do I feel relieved at not having Ethan's arms wrapped tightly around me?

"_Fuck_, Justin, you've been working all day... and last night, and the night before that! You never have time for me anymore!"

He paces across the room, one agitated hand buried in his hair in that way of his that means some furious cadenza forte will soon have the neighbors banging on the walls. The hurt has turned into anger, and I press the heels of my palms against my eyes. Heaven knows, I love him. He is everything to me. But he can be a selfish queen when he gets like this, refusing to acknowledge that my art means as much to me as his does to him.

Moving my hand to rub the throbbing at the base of my skull, I turn around to face him. It's been a very long week. I have my final exam tomorrow and I'm completely stressed out. My marks are good, and it should go well, but I don't want it to just go _well_. It must go _extraordinarily_ well. Fucking Brian... and fuck his money! I owe him – he owns me... Wait, shit. No, I mean, I will be indebted to him until I pay my tuition fees back, which I will be able to do quicker if I can get a good job, for which I need good grades...

But this is not a conversation I'm prepared to have with Ethan again. Apart from the fact that I only have a few hours left to review, he throws an unmanageable tantrum whenever the B-subject comes up, especially if it's about me paying Brian back for the next 100 years. He hates that there are still strings, still reasons for me and his archenemy to keep in touch.

His insane jealousy has started to bother me lately. I thought it would get better the longer we were together... after I'd had a couple of months to prove to him I wanted nothing more to do with Brian. But, if anything, it seems to have gotten worse.

Brian has always been my inspiration, and for that I will not apologize. Even now, even while we rarely run into each other, something of him is evident in all my work. As for the pieces that include quite a... big... part of him... those I've hidden very, very well. I swear, Ethan's capable of tearing them into confetti with his bare hands should he ever see the naked drawings I made last week. He especially doesn't have to know that I don't even need to be with Brian in order to create the perfect likeness.

I understand it's hard on Ethan, and I blame myself entirely. It should not have been necessary for him to wait for weeks before I finally moved out of the loft. Such uncertainty would have made anyone go crazy. Except Brian, because you have to give a fuck before you can get insecure or jealous, and therefore it just proves again how much Ethan loves me.

I had better deal with this now. There will be no peace and quiet until Ethan gets what he wants. For a moment, I feel manipulated, which is absolutely ridiculous. Ethan doesn't control me. He adores me. He worships the ground I walk on, as do I with him. I should be grateful that he still wants to be with me after the asshole I've been this last month. I'm not sure who is looking more forward to me handing in my final assignment, him or me.

A brush-off and half a promise of possibly getting laid later are hardly the actions of an adoring boyfriend.

I tug his hand out of his hair and brush my lips across the back.

"I'm sorry..." Grabbing his chin, I tilt his head towards me to give him a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry I've been such a shit lately. I'll make it up to you... How about tomorrow night?" I usually go all warm and fuzzy when he pouts at me like that. Guess I'm more exhausted than I thought.

He breaks away from me and, shaking his head, turns to moodily stare out of the window.

"_Fuck_..."

His back stiffens. I didn't mean for him to hear that.

Not knowing what to say... not having anything more to say... I lean against the accusing body, my forehead resting low on his shoulder, my arms helplessly by my sides. I so don't need this tonight. At least Brian never...

He suddenly spins around and, catching me by surprise, has his tongue in my mouth before I can properly open my eyes.

In an automatic reflex (this is new!), I step back, but he's got his fingers locked behind my head, and my involuntary pulling away only succeeds in making us both stumble. Seizing the momentum from my loss of balance, he pushes me onto the bed.

"Ethan." He interprets the struggling as part of our normal, playful wrestling and giggles with delight. Soft fingers run over my body and I squirm. Ethan refuses to do it rough, always saying what he feels for me is much more than just two animals fucking.

Which is really sweet and romantic, but truth is...

"Fuck me!" I was hoarse from screaming. Brian ignored me.

Warm breath caressed my skin as the throaty laugh got smothered between my thighs, and I growled helplessly, thrashing against the ropes chafing my wrists.

Brian smirked up at me, wicked eyes all make-believe wide and innocent.

His lips were molded around my cock, and I watched as he roughly flicked the head, making small pleasure noises as he swallowed my pre-cum. It made me leak even more. He turned sideways to watch my reaction and squeezed my balls between his fingers before sucking on them loudly, one at a time. Shit, I didn't think the throbbing in my groin could get any worse without killing me in the process...

Curling his tongue around my dick, he moaned at the wetness running down from my slit. The sharp sting of teeth nipping at the base of my hard-on caused a momentary discomfort before I was lost in his mouth again.

My fists tore at sweat and sex soaked sheets as I frantically thrust at his face, desperate for release.

I wanted to make him hurt like I was hurting... to pull him by the hair and bite his neck and scratch furrows on his back and bruise his hips between my legs. But I wanted his dick up my ass even more... to feel the pain as he stretched me, the ache of muscles when he forced me to adjust... to push back on him slamming into me, and finally have his body spasm uncontrollably against me when we climaxed.

He had kept me teetering on the edge for what felt like hours, and the pressure in my chest made me heave. Raw, animal lust seared through me, blending with... so intense... fuck, I love him. I love him so goddamn much.

Emotion and need met and I drowned in the shockwaves, grinding my teeth against the sudden constriction in my throat. Brian...

"You had no idea what might have happened when you came home with me that first night..." The nails scraping across my stomach left a trail of fire that he took too long to put out, his tongue lingering as he soothed the tender skin.

"What I could have done with you..."

His hands suddenly locked around my throat, the thumbs pressed under my chin and over my windpipe, causing the air to burn in my lungs. I choked. His grip was stronger than I expected, than I thought we agreed on.

It was fucking hot.

"But that was all part of the thrill... not knowing what I might do to you..."

Blood was pulsing in my ears as I struggled for breath. The adrenaline rush overloaded my nerve endings, turning my veins into thousands of tiny electrical currents.

I'd had enough. It was too much. And he knew. He knew my body better than even I did, and I didn't have to scream again that I needed to be his.

He was taking me, hard and fast, like I wanted him to.

His name was a strangled sob on my lips as he burst inside me and I was finally allowed to surrender. Tears were streaming down the sides of my face when darkness enveloped me.

_I love him... so much..._

"Ethan!" He tries to pin my arms while he licks and sucks his way down to my crotch. Fuck, I have to stop this before he discovers...

I can't remember Ethan ever having failed to turn me on before, from the very first moment I laid eyes on him, when he walked out on stage. I had a hard-on the entire time he was playing. Shit, I feel bad about that... Brian would not have minded that I wanted Ethan. We were anything but exclusive, with the exception of the no-kissing-other-guys-on-the-mouth thing. He'd probably have been more worried if some hot guy failed to get my dick's attention.

But with Ethan it was more than that, and I've long since given up on lying to myself about what really happened. I didn't want to just fuck the sexy violinist. I wanted his lips between mine, to taste him and feel him shiver under me as I oh so slowly devoured him. I never thought of him as just a possible one-time trick, and that made all the difference.

It got a thousand times worse when I met him after his rehearsal and he started flirting with me. Pitch-black eyes... I've never seen anything like them. Neither could I see anything _in_ them, which was a bit disturbing. I wasn't used to encountering a blank wall. I didn't dwell on it, as the rest of him was animated enough to keep me enthralled.

I've always been amazed that Brian's eyes, for all his effort to hide the real Brian Kinney, could give so much away.

My breath catches as Brian takes form in my thoughts, and Ethan interprets the gasp as me finally getting with the program.

"I knew you didn't really want to study..." I turn my face away, causing him to only kiss my cheek, but he doesn't notice, being too focused on rubbing up against me.

Hazelnut eyes, small specks of green and gold... I could read him like a book. I probably knew what he was thinking and how he was going to react even before he did. Except for that last night...

I had barely set foot inside the loft when Brian grabbed me.

Having just been with Ethan, I wanted to take a shower. And yes, I'll admit it. I did feel guilty about bringing Ethan into our home, so to speak, so the first thing I did every time I came back was to wash him off me. Then, of course, I'd feel guilty for what the action implied about me and Ethan, that I could dismiss him that quickly the moment I laid eyes on Brian again.

The strain of being with both of them, and Brian not knowing about Ethan, was starting to get to me big time. Putting the debate on whether he loved me or not aside, when it came down to sex, to tricks, Brian had never been anything but completely honest with me. And he kept to our agreement... home by 3:00 am, no names, never twice... and never kissing anyone else on the mouth. I had fucked up and I knew it.

But, that night, all of it seemed to disappear, and my world turned right side up again as he took me with a passion I'd only had glimpses of before.

God, he was incredible. When he rammed me up against the steel pillar, forcing my hands above my head... I thought I had seen, and intimately knew, all the sides to being a Brian Kinney fuck. But he was like a man possessed. Of course, I realized afterwards that he knew... had known about Ethan. But, in the moment, I was swept off my feet, swept along into a raging flood of having my clothes torn off, my mouth bruised, and my cock grabbed painfully as he crushed me into the hardwood floor.

Everywhere he touched me burned, and I remember thinking at the time that it was like he was branding me, putting his mark all over my body for everyone to see, finally declaring to the world that I was his, that he... loved me.

Little did I know.

He worked me into a frenzy. I was so hard my balls were aching. He was everything I ever wanted and more, right there.

But then he went rigid and cold, and suddenly I had a stranger between my legs, pulling away and harshly dismissing me to take a shower, alone.

He disappeared into the dark bedroom, leaving me on the floor. I felt more alone and confused and rejected than I had ever before in my life.

It wasn't that he didn't want me. If anything, he was even more turned on than I was.

And I'd fucked other guys before. It's not like Ethan was the first one he smelled on me.

Okay, fuck. It wasn't the same. In all fairness, I couldn't blame Brian for being less than happy with me. I should have told him myself, long before Michael did...

That was the only time I didn't understand what I saw in his eyes... while he was getting off me. The look he cast over his shoulder, storming out the door. I still don't.

The loud knock startles Ethan as much as it does me. I shrug at his irritation and push him off me, none too gently, indicating with a jerk of my head that he should get the door.

I am going to kiss whoever it is waiting outside in the hallway for their impeccable timing.


	3. Chapter 3

_Beam's PoV_

Ethan is a long time in answering the door, and I know why.

I watched earlier tonight as he tried to get into Justin's pants, not deterred by any of the "I have to study" shit. His antics amused me, but he still hadn't scored when I left a short while ago, and I can imagine the mood he is in. Ethan is a perfect example of the infamous "artistic temperament", but his oh so charming temper guaranteed some uniquely queen variations.

We hear our host-to-be before we see him, loud swearing announcing Ethan's approach. Flustered and impatient, he flings the door open, one hand clumsily fumbling with buttoning his pants. From his irritation, I'm guessing he didn't get what he wanted, but by the look of the tangled hair, the curls wild and standing out on all sides, he definitely had a good go at it.

I can't help myself chalking one up for Justin.

It is not that I entirely _dislike_ the musician. He has been kind to me, offering me a home and food when I was too lazy to find it for myself.

I left my last family after they brought a pink, screaming bundle of blankets home. Apart from the noise and smell, they started to ignore me... rather, making funny sounds at the wriggling thing in a tone that I didn't much care for. It wasn't intelligent speech at all, and, not having anyone to talk to but a less-than-purebred street gang, I decided to seek my comfort elsewhere. I know how to be cute and adorable. Adding my luxurious coat of long, ginger hair (Justin says it's the color of 'whiskey'), I've never had any difficulty convincing someone to take care of my needs.

I was assessing my new territory when Ethan saw me sitting at the back door of the coffee shop down the road from his apartment. The restaurateur had explained to me that he couldn't take me home, something about his wife sneezing, but that there were always titbits of food left over, if I were interested. My pride does not overrule my common sense, and I never say 'no' to being served a meal rather than having to hunt for it myself. In turn, I allowed the shop owner to touch me, which wasn't that much of a sacrifice, even though it did add to my bath time. He had gentle hands and knew about the spot under my chin that always makes my throat vibrate when it's scratched just right.

The sleeping arrangements on the porch weren't quite up to standard, though, and I immediately moved in when Ethan offered.

I don't consider us friends... not in the way that Justin and I are. It was a proposition that worked for both parties. We spoke occasionally, and when we passed one another in the hall, he'd give me an absentminded pat before we would each be on our way.

I even got used to the constant wailing. Some of it wasn't half bad, soothing and lulling me into a nap more often than not. I discovered that by curling into a tight ball and wrapping my tail around my ears, I could tone down the volume to a more acceptable level.

Everything changed when Justin came along.

"What the fuck do you want?" Ethan always sounds so... _feminine_ when he yells. He seems a bit less than pleased to see us, and I don't try to hide the anticipation puffing up my tail, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

I streak past my new friend's legs, bearing down on the door that is rapidly closing, but he beats me to it and gives the peeling piece of wood a hard shove, causing Ethan to stagger against the equally peeling wall.

"Fuck, Brian!" Ethan clutches at his nose as I leap around him. I'm settled on top of the wardrobe before Brian casually strolls in.

So, _this_ is Brian… I should have recognized him. I've watched Justin paint and sketch his ex-partner often enough.

"Ian." He doesn't look at the livid figure as he walks past.

The insult hovers between them, and the fiddler balls his hands, blood streaming down his chin. That's got to _hurt_. More so because Ethan is one of the vainest people I know. He is going to shit himself tomorrow when his eyes had gone all black and bruised.

"_Fuk!_ You broke by _dose_, you _fukib abhole_!" Ethan spits, taking a step closer to Brian with raised fists, but then he yelps in pain and grabs at his face again, wincing.

"Shit. _Fuk you!_"

Brian smirks at the seething fiddler, a dark gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

"You can'd just fukib…" Ethan chokes in the blood running down the back of his throat, coughing up some of it, but the discomfort isn't enough to keep him from giving Brian a withering look before storming to the kitchen.

"I'm sure it will grow back just as bent out of shape as it was before," Brian calls after him in mocking reassurance.

His smirk widens into a grim smile at the racket ensuing from drawers being opened and slammed shut, but freezes instantly at the unexpected sound of the fiddler's name being called out.

In all the excitement, I didn't notice Justin sitting on the bed.

He makes half a movement to get up, but then decides against it and sinks back down.

He looks a mess... clothes all dishevelled and rumpled... pale, dark circles under his eyes. I've been getting more and more concerned about him since the exams started. He hasn't been eating well, and when he does sleep, it is a restless slumber. The mounting tension between him and Ethan hasn't helped.

Ian would rarely get home before 6:00 am, always attending concerts and functions and intimate affairs thrown by his snob friends, by which time Justin was already on his way out.

It was as if they took carefully coordinated turns in being home when the other wasn't, but Justin didn't say anything to Ethan. We spoke about it only once, and he guiltily admitted that he was somewhat relieved at the shift-like arrangement, since he got more work done when Ethan wasn't around.

On the odd occasion that they spent more than five minutes in each other's company, Ethan would be all over Justin, seducing the boy into bed by reiterating the promises that got Justin to stay in the first place. They would end up fucking... or, rather, Ethan would end up getting his cock sucked, and Justin would either go to sleep or get back to his studies. The young artist had a well-skilled mouth on him, if Ethan's reactions were anything to go by, which resulted in Ian being too spent to complain much that he didn't have the chance to reciprocate the favor.

Pushing a nervous hand through his hair, Justin turns to meet Brian's gaze with eyes big and wide and blue, his mouth slightly open in shock.

"Jesus, Brian…" His voice trails off and he shakes his head, before letting it drop to his hands.

I twitch at the crackling air. I _knew_ it.

"Sunshine," Brian says quietly.

Ethan doesn't call him that, and I watch as his face lights up slowly, the generous mouth pulling into a smile. I've missed that wide grin of his. _Sunshine_... it describes him perfectly. There's a small curve around the corner of Brian's lips when he purposefully closes the short distance between them. The sadness has lifted a little.

Justin doesn't notice Brian instinctively reaching out to him, and Brian jams his hand back into his coat pockets without touching the blond head.

Instead, he silently scrutinizes the apartment, not trying to hide his disgust, and seizes the opportunity to get his too-fast breathing under control.

What an elitist creature. Justin has told me about Brian's lifestyle, and how only the best is good enough. Expensive clothes, Italian furniture… I wouldn't mind living with a rich… what did Justin call him?... narcissistic queer.

I yawn, pulling my whiskers back tight against my cheeks, when Brian looks up.

Shit. Busted.

I meet his stare, swivelling my ears forward as I cock my head at him, unabashed. It's not like I've been eavesdropping, exactly. It is just polite to not butt in on conversations that you weren't specifically invited to.

"What are you doing here?" Justin asks, tired.

Brian turns back to the huddled body.

"You look like shit," he says in a bland voice.

Justin gives a short laugh, but there is no mirth in it.

"Bluntly honest, as always." There is a challenge in the blue eyes when they meet Brian's, but he doesn't answer. He doesn't look away, either.

Ethan emerges from the kitchen, pressing a dishcloth across his nose. A couple of ice cubes shatters behind him in his anxiousness to join Brian and Justin, even though his face is set in a grimace of pain.

Something like panic flashes across Justin face, but it's gone before his boyfriend steps out from behind Brian.

"You okay?" he asks, concern in his voice, but he remains where he is.

"No, I'm not fukib okay!" Ethan glares at Brian helplessly, knowing he can't return in kind the damage Brian did.

But he still had his prize…

"Wat do yu wad?" He sits down next to Justin, hips touching, placing his arm possessively around the slumped shoulders. Justin stiffens, and Ethan casts him a furious look when the blond gets up.

Their quick exchange doesn't go unnoticed, and, with a wicked grin, Brian grabs Justin around the waist.

"This."


	4. Chapter 4

Justin doesn't resist when Brian swings him into a tight embrace, the fingers digging into his back making it clear that Brian isn't going to let go without a fight. Justin recognizes the challenge in his provocative stare, and all thought of putting up a struggle scatters. It's just so much easier than having to summon energy he doesn't have for a wrestling match with a very determined Brian.

Or so he tells himself, ignoring the blood rushing to his cock.

Truth is… God, he had forgotten how truly beautiful this man is, even though he has been drawing and painting him constantly. All the various facial expressions that Justin is… _shit… was_… so in love with, the masks that Brian thinks protect him, but to Justin reveal more than they hide.  
>Brian roughly shoves his knee in between the blond boy's legs, spreading him, and the intimacy makes Justin grunt involuntarily.<p>

_Christ, I missed this so much… I… miss him so goddamn much… _

His brain, numb from exhaustion, promptly shuts down, taking all common sense with it and leaving Justin with a marionette body, the strings held firmly by a master puppeteer. He is too tired to care, to prevent goose bumps from dancing over his skin, to push the unexpected comfort away, to worry about not _wanting_ to push it away... not wanting to push _Brian _away.

Off-balance, he stumbles and instinctively reaches out to break the fall, his hands grabbing at Brian's shoulders. A low gasp escapes his throat, smothered in the thick cashmere scarf, but Brian feels the warm breath stir low on his neck, nonetheless. Biting down, hard, Brian steels himself against the heat rushing into what is already an uncomfortable hard-on.

Justin tilts his head back, eyes caressing the features he knows better than his own, noticing lines that weren't there when he had last seen him, when they had last been this close. Sliding over expensive leather, his fingers lock at the base of Brian's neck in a way that has very little to do with seeking support to remain upright. More like needing something to hang onto. Or someone.

There is a sense of desperation, of… _relief?_... in the gesture, and Brian frowns at the limp form in his arms. The boy is light as a feather, just skin and bones and dark circles... Justin hasn't looked this bad since the months after the bashing. What the _fuck _is going on?

Wide eyes stare up at him, confused and surprised and… _surely not_… Justin hasn't given him _that_ look since the night Brian pinned him on the loft's wooden floor, when he'd wanted the twinkie's ass so bad, he would have come as soon as he pushed through the tight muscle layer into the hot, contracting hole. He'd been on all fours, towering over the boy. Justin's unconditional surrender electrified the air between them, but Brian's cock wasn't the only part of him that responded strongly to the unabashed adoration. Which was strange enough... a fuck exhibiting anything other than lust and need and 'fucking _fuck_ me already!' should make his dick go soft. Instead, a thrill raced through him, and he admitted reluctantly that he wanted it, fucking lov-…_liked_ it when Justin looked at him like that.

That's when the image of his…_ fuck_… of _Justin_ being with Ian like _this_, kissing and touching and fucking – no, wait, they call it _making love_– had rocked through him. Taken aback by the unfamiliar, strong emotion, he'd pulled away, in more ways than one. He couldn't understand why the thought of Justin kissing someone else suddenly bothered him so much, why his chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe.

Staggering on shaky legs, he'd growled at a bewildered Justin to go take a shower, not adding that he wanted, fucking _needed _the musician's scent erased from Justin's body... from his loft, from his life. Instead, he had headed for Babylon.

Back in the present, Brian catches sight of Ewan's shocked face over Justin's shoulder and hides his concern and anger behind a triumphant smirk.

_Fucking fiddler! If he's hurt Justin, I swear…_

The expert touch, warm under his shirt, spreads over Justin's lower back, alternating between kneading and stroking in the way that Brian knows drives him crazy. Fingertips hint under the waistband of his pants, and Justin bites back on the groan rising from between his legs, twisting his stomach into a knot and forcing the air from his lungs in a small, explosive sound. Brian catches the dropping head and, moving his palm over a pale cheek, he grabs a handful of the soft blond hair. Justin's eyes fly open and he hisses at the sharp needles prickling his scalp.

With the pain comes a sudden awareness, and he struggles feebly, realizing he needs to move, get away from Brian _now_, but getting no cooperation from any of his limbs.

Tobacco, aftershave, whiskey, sweat, _heat, sex_… black pupils contracting into deep pools when Brian is turned on… as they are now… as _he_ is now…

The dark head bends down, and Justin tenses in anticipation of the half-parted lips brushing against his.

_He is going to kiss me... fuck, please let him kiss me._He squirms in the too tight jeans.

_…Boyfriend… Ethan... and I'm going to let him, so help me…_

Justin shivers as a tongue tip traces his lower lip. The need to taste Brian again, after so long, slams into his gut, knocking the wind from him. Breathless, he gives in to the probing, opening his mouth wide.

Brian's hand folds around the nape of Justin's neck, holding him in a vise between forefinger and thumb, as he crushes their mouths together and grinds his lower body to the one between his legs. The boy shudders and Brian shifts an arm down his back, holding him up with an embrace anchored around his slim waist. It's not the first time he's had to do it, and Justin cringes at the throbbing ache inside him. Brian knows he can literally kiss Justin's legs out from under him, and he is doing a sterling job at reminding him.

It takes Ethan a while to register that Brian was serious, very serious. Flying off the bed, he grabs Justin around the middle, breaking Brian's grip as he pulls the blond towards him. The sudden movement sends fireworks up his nose and he staggers, his faced grimaced in pain as each gulp of air burns through his head.

Justin reaches out to help, but Ethan jerks his arm away and pushes his flushed boyfriend aside to wearily focus on the source of all his problems and pain.

Brian is breathing heavily, drawing air through his mouth, and Ethan notices the moisture glistening on the parted lips. _Justin's_… Following Brian's heated stare, he watches _his_ young admirer thoughtfully, taking in the dazed look, heaving chest, the _adoring _blue eyes not leaving his ex's face, looking more alive than he had seen them in… who's counting?

The tension is palpable, and if it were any other situation, any other two people devouring each other with a good ten feet between them, he would find it fucking hot. God, he had all but told Justin in so many words, when he first met Brian, that he would go to bed with him any time. The man is fucking gorgeous.

Be that as it may, Justin is still _his_, even though that shy smile isn't meant for him.

"I wand you to go." Ethan's voice is tired, the fire gone from his eyes. "I wand you to get out _right dnow._"

"Brian..." One look at Brian's face tells Justin he doesn't need to ask him to stay. Brian isn't ready to leave yet, far from it, and no one is going to make him.

Justin takes Ethan's hand firmly, not letting go when he tries to shrug him off, and drags the unwilling body to the other side of the bed. Folding back the covers, he waits for Ethan to crawl in before pulling the duvet over him. Using the washcloth to gather the ice cubes that fell when Ethan jumped up, he hands it to the sulking violinist.

"I need to talk to Brian, okay?" It isn't really a question, but Ethan just closes his eyes, wheezing. "Can I get you anything?"

"Whatever," Ethan mumbles, waving his hand in an airily dismissive sort of way. Leaning back, he slumps against the pillows and presses the cold relief gently to his nose. He is the perfect picture of defeat and misery.

Justin watches his boyfriend, emotions flickering across his face too quickly for Brian to separate one from the other. This makes him even more uneasy. Something is very wrong. Justin has a fair skin tone, but tonight it is almost translucent. Brian expects him to keel over any second, which would be the proverbial fucking cherry on top of a fabulously shitty evening. God, he doesn't want to be here… anywhere but near Justin. His heart is thudding in his chest, and he is still hard and fighting his body's reaction to the memories that kissing his ex-… ex-partner has stirred up.

Grabbing Brian by the coat, Justin drags him to the other side of the room, away from Ethan, not giving a shit about mishandling Brian's clothes or the scowl it earns him.

"What do you want?" Justin recognizes the lust in Brian's eyes, the half-parted mouth, his tongue suggestively pushing into his cheek…

He quickly presses his fingers over the teasing smirk, hoping in vain that Brian won't feel them shaking. He can't remember when last he had fucked someone – or gotten fucked. Ethan doesn't count... that has somehow become a one-sided thing. Jerking off in a locked bathroom, after having blown your boyfriend, and wanting your own hand around your cock, rather than his…

But if it was Brian he was in that bathroom with… Shit, he needs to rethink a couple of things... should have done so a long time ago... such as why is he leaking profusely at the thought of Brian fucking him up the ass right here, right now... for as many times as it takes him to thrust, to hammer into Justin, until he can't sit for at least a week… rather than cuddling his injured boyfriend.

_Enough… Shit, I must talk to Ia-… double shit!... Ethan first… Fuck, don't fucking look at me like that…_

"Don't… Brian, please…"

Brian closes his mouth against the fingers resting against his lips, a single shiver running down his spine at the way Justin said his name. That begging tone didn't usually ask him to stop. He doesn't move but for his breathing... warm, moist air over Justin's hand.

Hazel eyes, full of questions… blue eyes, hiding… guarded… _hurting_. Brian's face remains impassive, except for the tell-tale spasm of his jaw muscles.

_Christ, he knew it! He should have broken fucking Ewan's neck when he had the chance, not just done a bit of cosmetic surgery. _

Justin recognizes the tense contraction and smiles ruefully.

He lays his hands on either side of Brian's face, palms against his cheeks, soft fingers caressing even softer skin... around the upset eyes, along the vein running across the temple he knows is well on its way to a throbbing headache.

"I'm _fine_," he says. "Stop worrying…" The low voice trails off, giving his arousal away, and blue eyes flee guiltily before the piercing stare.

The sound spills over Brian like warm honey, sticky and sweet, the heat of it coating his insides with a golden glow… or some such fucking nauseating sentimentality... if he were a lesbian... which he isn't.

Dripping a thin line of syrup from the base of Justin's neck, along his spine, lapping at the slowly flowing river until the moonlight-colored body is coated with sunshine… pooling in the small of the blond's back until it overflows and runs down Justin's crack into his own sucking mouth... over the stretched hole and carried on Brian's tongue into the wetness, smearing the walls of the tight tunnel… now that is something he could get into.

Justin got totally off on it, when they licked ice cream off each other.

He shifts, his cock caught heavy and swollen between his legs, unaware of how the mental image causes his face to relax, pushing in an upward curve at the corners of his mouth. Justin stares at the transformation, however slight, and painfully realizes how much Brian has changed.

_I did this to him…_

Burning regret at what he walked away from... at what he left behind, at what he _caused_… the tears come unbidden. Swallowing thickly, he runs a finger along the crevices of the almost-smile, willing it to stay, to widen, to be as it was before.

"Sunshine…" Brian whispers huskily against his fingers, not letting on that he is completely freaked out.

_Shit, he's fucking crying… If I can just hold him… and I haven't even told him yet…oh, fuck, this is going to be fun... He's already queening... and when he hears…_

Brian takes a deep breath, the effort of not doing something, _anything_... just standing and watching... is driving him crazy.

_This is totally fucked, but it is Justin's choice._


	5. Chapter 5

Brian takes a deep breath, the effort of not doing something, anything... just standing and watching... is driving him crazy.

_This is totally fucked, but it is Justin's choice, Justin's move._

Justin knows he shouldn't, but when Brian calls him _Sunshine_, in a hushed voice that excludes everyone, anyone, anything else... it's just for him, it's just the two of them… Everything is already so fucked up, it would be a shame to miss an opportunity that will so splendidly _ensure_ he is well and truly fucked… so much the better if it's his ass taking the fucking... and Brian _doing_ the fucking…

Besides, there was that promise he made about kissing whoever was at the door.

He doesn't so much ignore Ethan's furious cry as not hear it at all.

Deftly slipping his hands under Brian's arms and gripping hard across his back and shoulders, he claims the half-parted mouth, finding no resistance when he pushes… bruising soft lips with his… shoving… weeks and months of loneliness and despair and…

_Oh, God… Brian, you fuck! You fucking son of a bitch! Why the fuck didn't you ask me to stay? You fucking knew I was making the biggest mistake… Why didn't you stop me… find me… take me home… Oh, God… Brian… I'm so sorry… I'm so fucking sorry…_

Brian is thrown when the familiar shape molds to him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he inhales deeply, trying to get his dick… and heart… under control. Instead, the scent of the boy in his arms is amplified, a reminder of what… Justin's mouth on his, Justin exploding against his tongue… _who_ he doesn't have.

With a guttural moan, more in reaction to the unbearable sense of loss than passion, he breaks the kiss and crushes Justin to him, one hand tangled in silk strands, pressing his shivering ex-partner's face into his shoulder.

A choked sound escapes Justin, and when Brian tenderly tugs at a fistful of hair, he doesn't hide again... simply meets the scrutinizing stare, eyes sparkling a bit too much, lips pursed to keep from trembling.

Brian nudges his nose against the tip of Justin's… _Ewan won't be doing this for a while… and never again with Justin…_

He knows what it is that Justin wants from him… _needs from him_... having held him often enough during long, dark hours when he'd woken up screaming, tears streaming down his face… Brian kissing nightmares and fears away until the golden head was tucked safely under his chin, Brian's body wrapped around his.

_This doesn't mean… he's just… this is just… fucking difficult…_

He moves unhurriedly, skimming his fingers over the too pale features, his breath heating small patches of skin as his lips brush across Justin's forehead… cheeks… hovering over his hard-pressed mouth… coaxingly nibbling at the plump lower lip that Brian loves so much.

Nobody can pout like Justin, and nobody can wipe Justin's pout away better than Brian.

Justin's body goes slack, and Brian's insides clench as his tears smear between them, staining Brian's cheek with the same salty wetness.

Kissing… sucking… licking… lapping… kissing some more… he is just not quick enough, and within moments Brian's face is as tear-soaked as Justin's. Small drops transfer to collect on Brian's skin, stream together, and disappear alongside those running down Justin's.

Increasing the pressure around the quietly heaving body, he holds him and waits, laying his cheek on the head tucked… safely… under his chin once more. Justin half buries himself inside Brian's coat, gradually growing still under patient fingers playing in his hair, trailing down the side of his face, following the wet strips along his jaw... a hand rubbing soothingly at his coiled back muscles.

Brian catches sight of Ethan, propped up in bed, arms crossed over his chest in a huff, and staring at them intently. His expression is unreadable, but there is no mistaking the hostility.

Whether it is because he actually cares enough to allow Justin the comfort he needs... even if he's going out of his mind with jealousy that it has to be Justin's _fucking _hot ex... or because he doesn't care at all, he does nothing to claim his boyfriend from Brian.

Brian hopes it's the first... that there is, at least, _some_ decency in the fiddler... some reason for Brian to not fucking kill him just for the fun of it. The quivering mess in his arms isn't just exam nerves. Ethan has something to do with Justin looking like a ghost... and one that got a very raw deal, at that.

His face goes cold, seething eyes boring into the musician's, making it clear it's "gloves off." No more games, no more bullshit... only withering roses and burnt-out candles. Brian knows it, Ethan knows it... and Justin will. If the death of romance doesn't take the young artist along with it, he will probably hate Brian for the rest of his life. Brian is prepared to live with that, as long as the starry-eyed dreamer doesn't continue to seek his happiness in lies and deceit and end up like _this_.

It is not about getting Justin back... although God knows he has somehow turned into enough of a lesbian tonight that he'll admit he wants more than anything for them to remain like this... without the tears, and in the loft... but the little twink in his arms, where he can keep an eye on him, and the hot ass his to fuck anytime.

Justin must be Sunshine, no matter what it takes.

The cuddled form in the circle of Brian's embrace relaxes slowly, quietly leaning against him, like a small child, resting the side of his face on his hands, flat on Brian's chest.

_Fuck._

He needs to get out of this shit-hole. _They_ need to get out, before he either fucks his blond boy until there is color in his cheeks, or he fucks up Fiddle-fingers so good he will never play again.

But first, there is something he wants to say to Justin… and to Ian…

Cupping his hand around Justin's chin, he lifts the still swimming eyes to his... meeting them, holding them, willing the blue gaze to _know_… but Justin only frowns in bewilderment, confusion turning into panic when suddenly Brian, _his _Brian is gone... in his place the indifferent stranger, the "fuck if I give a shit" face… except for sad eyes.

Brian hesitates. If he's wrong, if Justin doesn't still… care… love… something… _anything_… then… then at least he'll be able to enjoy the numbing company of some good friends _knowing_ everything has gone to shit, rather than flying high in hell on drugs and alcohol _hoping _it hasn't, like he has been doing.

Taking a deep breath, Brian frames Justin's face with his hands, taking the salty lower lip between his and gently sucking it, barely brushing his tongue over the curve. Justin responds instantly, dizzy with relief, drawing Brian's upper lip into the embrace, something between a whimper and a moan rising in his throat.

At first, they don't move any deeper, their tongues touching more by accident than design as their lips carefully slide along and over each other, carrying words back and forth that have never been spoken out loud. But then the fear burns away… this is _right_… this is _him_… words become sentences and paragraphs, and their mutual longing takes them inside, tongues darting across swollen lips, an infusion of saliva and want and desire…

Justin opens his eyes when Brian pulls back slightly, to intense hazel ones inches from his own. Holding the dazed stare, watching the heated irises, making sure he has the lad's full attention, Brian deliberately runs the tip of his tongue over Justin's. Big blue eyes blink at him rapidly, realization dawning slowly on the exhausted face, and a soft smile rushes from Brian's mouth to Justin's. He closes his eyes, melting into the heat of Justin's tongue... opening, inviting him in. Slipping past Brian's low grunt, Justin eagerly moves deeper into his mouth, his hoarse sounds mirroring Brian's need.

It is with great reluctance that Brian gently breaks away. He would love nothing more than to continue this conversation with Justin deep into the night, but not here. Ewan doesn't have to hear any more.

Keeping his hold on Justin, he sighs at the beautiful face, now flushed and puffy... his eyes red-rimmed, the dark circles more pronounced... and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

If he looked before like he might fall over any second, Brian is willing to bet good money that Justin is about to do so now, and what Brian needs to tell him is not going to help keep the boy stay on his feet.

Justin picks up on Brian's agitation and looks up, sees the shadows in worried eyes, and swallows at the apprehension suddenly clutching at his gut. He still doesn't know why Brian is here.

Gulping air… shaking… mentally pushing down everything that had happened, that had fucked him (not quite well and truly yet) over in less than an hour... everything Brian... concentrating only on his next…

"Justin." Brian's voice is low as he resumes his grip around the slender neck,_ hating _this.

"What's wrong?" The young voice is fairly steady, but Brian doesn't miss the fear flirting across his face.

"Everything is okay," he says reassuringly, but nonetheless strengthens his hold on Justin's lower back. "It's just… your mom has been in an accident."

"What?" Justin exclaims, reeling. Brian digs his fingers into the tense shoulder muscles, keeping him close. "Is she okay? What happened? Christ!"

"She's fine. They are keeping her in the hospital for a couple of days, but she's okay." Brian ignores Justin's halfhearted attempt to get out of his embrace. Swaying on his feet, chest heaving, panting, lips moist and stark red against the shocked, chalk-white face. Maybe if he kisses him again…

"Wat's goink on?" Temporarily forgetting his unsolved feud with Brian, Ethan walks over and reaches for his boyfriend's hand. Justin sidesteps him and, scrunching his fingers in his hair, moves away from both men.

"Fuck…" He spins towards Brian. "You're sure she's okay? She's not in a… coma or anything?"

Brian winces at the words, grabs Justin by the shoulders and steers him towards the bed, where he forces him to sit down.

"Justin, _listen _to me." Gripping Justin's chin, he turns the gaunt face towards him, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine at seeing the old terror in the bloodshot eyes. "Are you listening?"

Scared blue pools meet his eyes… answering the unuttered "Trust me."

"She's _fine_. She broke her leg and has a couple of cuts and bruises. Of course, she's badly shaken up, but she's fine. Everything is going to be _okay_."

"You're sure?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Why didn't they call me? Why the _fuck_…"

"Your phone was turned off. I figured you'd want to see her, and it would be better if you were told in person, in case you… ah… queened out." Brian forces his voice to be light, teasing, hoping it will help Justin calm down.

This wins him a small, watery smile, and he tangles his fingers through the soft blond strands, brushing Justin's hair back from his forehead. His pulse quickens when Justin tilts his head momentarily, returning the pressure.

"Shit, Brian… I… _Jesus_…" Leaning forward, supporting his elbows on his knees, Justin runs his hands over his face, pressing palms against his eyes. He is breathing hard through half-parted lips, but clearly making an effort to regain his composure.

Brian softly touches his knuckles to the clenched jaw, lightly stroking the tension lines. Justin's mouth relaxes, and taking Brian's hand in his he places a lingering kiss on the inside.

Exhaling deeply, squeezing Brian's fingers, he smiles into the anxious hazel eyes.

_There you go, Sonny boy…_

Brian grins, enormously relieved and impressed that he was wrong about Justin fainting on him. He still looks like shit... worse, in fact... but at least his eyes are clear, and the haunted look has retreated. It's not the smile yet, but Brian will take what he can get, and right now, that's plenty.

"I need to…"

"I'll take you."

They stare at each other, Brian's thumb slowly tracing the shy smile. Justin startles when Ethan squats in front of him.

"Jus, just gib me a second to chandse, thend we'll leave, okay? I'll call a cab," Ethan says with difficulty.

Justin grabs his wrist and holds him back, his eyes on Brian. "Sure you don't mind?"

Brian stands up, silently waiting for Justin to do the same.

"I'm goink with you," Ethan says firmly, squinting a furious look at Brian, but Justin shakes his head, letting go of Ethan as he gets up.

"You need to get some rest. Although…" Justin turns to the still figure next to him. "You're here with the Corvette?"

He swears when Brian nods.

"I don't know… maybe you should have that looked at… but there's not enough room…"

_Fuck fair play, and fuck the fiddler._

Closing his hand around the nape of Justin's neck, Brian slowly, very slowly pushes his fingers up over the base of his skull, into the soft hair, digging hard... spreading his fingers around the back, tugging at the strands before moving back down, scraping with his nails… watches the involuntary goosebumps, the shivers shaking through Justin, with a satisfied smirk... and crosses his fingers.

It starts at the top of Justin's head... his scalp tingling… small hairs rising… a thick molasses spreading into and over his body. Cold and hot all at once... a prickling sensation, a white-hot, searing… _familiar _fire.

Brian's face is set in his "I'm fucking bored, why are we still here?" scowl, not wavering before the accusing blue eyes... not giving away that his heart has last beat this fast while kneeling on a cold cement floor, his cries sounding inhuman, like an animal dying in slow agony, his pain mocked by the echoes of the empty parking garage.

_God, I can't lose him, not again… Fuck, there, I've admitted it…_

Justin stiffens, his eyes glued to Brian's… _Could have sworn… _

And then he grins, breaks into that smile that melts Brian into a muncher... that he will do fucking anything for, just to see it remain there.

Growing uncomfortable under the glowing blue eyes, Brian's fleeing glance falls on the wardrobe, locking gazes with another keen stare.

Getting up noiselessly, the big ginger cat gracefully arches his (of course, it's a "he") back in a tail-curling stretch, ears drawn flat against his head. With a huge yawn, he sits down on his haunches, tucking the four white paws neatly together, Sphinx-style. Looking down at Brian again, he gives him a conspiratorial wink and triumphant smirk.

_What… the… fuck?_

Brian blinks in disbelief, but his ally seems to have lost interest, all his concentration focused on cleaning a long front paw, the yellow eyes closing in contentment. If the fiddler would just shut the fuck up already… Brian's sure he'd be able to hear rhythmic purring all the way from across the room.

Ethan opens his mouth to protest, and Justin, having made his decision - actually a couple of them throughout the course of the night - leans over to quickly kiss his... ex-boyfriend, mindful of the swollen face, smothering the vehement protest, and… saying goodbye.

Which the violinist doesn't get, but then he has never learned how to speak… and especially, listen to… _the language of the kiss._

Justin gives an inaudible sigh, slightly wincing. He hadn't listened all that well, himself… either to Ethan's lack of using it or Brian's fluent speech.

"Don't worry about me. Just… get some sleep. We'll talk later." He picks up his coat, looking expectantly at Brian.

"Ewan." This time, Brian looks Ethan straight in the eyes as he follows Justin to the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

"Ewan." This time, Brian looks Ethan straight in the eyes as he follows Justin to the hall.

Walking past the shaky-looking wardrobe, Brian flings his arm casually across Justin's shoulders and swings them around to face the long-haired ginger cat poised on top.

Brian doesn't care much for cats, or dogs, or any kind of so-called "domestic animal." He doesn't dislike them, but prefers that nothing on four legs see the inside of the loft, with the exception of a fucking hot ass sticking up in the air and its owner down on all fours.

Animals shed, and his lair is most definitely not the dumping ground for hairs and who knows what the fuck else.

Having worked with both species in numerous ads, he would never consider getting a dog. God, what a mess! Slobber, shit all over the place, can't look or clean after themselves. They may make fantastic companions, but fuck, they are high maintenance, and for that he already has Justin.

He swallows hard. Justin is different from when Brian first entered the apartment, but he doesn't know if that means he is back in Justin's life in some way or other. Nonetheless, they should probably talk. Justin always wanted to talk, and if that's what he needs before he'll come back to the loft, then Brian is willing to learn Justin's language… learn it as well as Justin knows his... And he _does_ know Brian's well… that kiss…

Brian's jaw muscles strain with the effort of keeping his face expressionless, to not reveal the yearning… and _yes, hope_… aching through him.

…Cats, on the other hand, he might actually be able to tolerate, although he would never admit it out loud. They are a lot like him, as he knows too well, from first-hand experience. The willful creatures are fucking impossible to work with on set. Come and go as they please, ignore cues, go to sleep at the oddest times, in the oddest places. They just fucking _disappear_. The complete opposite of dogs, ruining your pants in their overeagerness for attention, you almost… scratch that… you _have_ to beg a cat for their cooperation, as they outright refuse to take orders from _anyone_.

High in their favor (overlooking the covered-in-cat-spit implication) is the "being clean" obsession, which they attend to themselves. In fact, they get seriously pissed off if you offer to help.

Their bathroom facilities could be better... a sandbox is not exactly elegant... but that can be managed.

It's just the hairs all over the place… on clothes, on the furniture, small bundles of it floating on the floor… Brian grimaces, finding the mere thought thoroughly appalling.

The yellow eyes narrow at Brian's slight facial movement, watching him with… _what the fuck… disapproval…?_

Justin follows his gaze and gapes at Brian in disbelief.

"You are shitting me…" His voice falters when an amused Brian does his eyebrow-quirking thing, patiently waiting for Justin to "get it."

"…You… _you _want me to…?"

The cat yawns, indifferently, causing the perfectly symmetrical stripes on his nose to crease charmingly. The expression on the ginger face is uncanny in its similarity to a classic "I'm fucking bored…" Brian glare.

_Fuck "uncanny"… this is fucking creepy!_

Taking a step back, Justin shakes his head, incredulous. The unwavering stare shifts from Brian to meet Justin's bewildered eyes.

_Since when does Brian Kinney go around shaking paws with hairy fuzz-balls?_

Brian's extremely out-of-character behavior sends Justin's mind reeling, and bit by bit the enormity of the evening's events starts to sink in.

…His at-the-time-boyfriend had his features altered by his ex-… _partner_. Said ex-partner proceeded to kiss him senseless in front of boyfriend… Which might have, with a spectacular amount of groveling, been brushed off as a _"that's just so typical fucking Brian"_… or, wait, _"that's just so fucking typical Brian"_ would probably lead to better results. But bawling his eyes out in Brian's arms might have been a tad much. The kiss after that is sort of difficult to explain as well… instead he kissed Ethan goodbye, and is now leaving with his ex-partner... as soon as he has introduced Brian to a _cat_.

He and Ethan need to talk, and they will, but... as of a couple of minutes ago, he and Ethan are over.

Then there is Brian…

He doesn't have a clue as to what the fuck happened between them tonight. But, even if it meant nothing to Brian, he would rather be on his own than continue the charade with Ethan.

On that decision, there is no turning back.

Justin is startled from his reverie by a creaking *thud* on the wobbly table behind him.

The bundle of fur stretches unhurriedly, arching his back before sitting down on his haunches. Winding a fluffy tail neatly around his paws, Sphinx-style, he resumes the mutual scrutiny he and Brian started on the stairs earlier.

He is big... not overweight, but in the way that some cats are just more sturdy than others. The long-hair coat is whiskey and white-striped, he has ginger ears, and a splash of snow white tapering down his breast, between his front legs, ending in an equally white belly.

Brian returns his arm to Justin's shoulders and maneuvres him towards the… yes, _waiting_ figure.

"Introduce us." The ginger tail sweeps once.

"This is..." Justin stammers. "Brian, you don't..."

Caught between unblinking hazel and gold stares, he starts to giggle. Brian's mouth twitches into a small smile, even though Justin sounds a bit hysterical.

"This is Beam."

"His name is Wolfram." Ethan peels Brian off Justin as he squeezes between them.

Justin turns away, hunkering down in front of the puffed-up little statue.

_Beam PoV_

Looking into the sparkling blue pools, I purr at the expert touch fluffing me. It's going to take me hours to look decent again, but I don't mind. Not for Justin.

I curve into his scratching fingers, raising my head to make it easier for him to tickle my chin. I love when he does that. Lazily brushing against him, I trace the lines of his body with my tail and bump my head against his hand. My front paws are taking turns in rhythmically curling and unfurling into small half-moons of pleasure.

Brian comes to stand beside Justin, blocking Ian. "Beam…"

His hands are back in his coat pockets, but I understand. We don't know each other yet, but that will change. Sitting back again, still humming happily, I flick my tail.

"Oh, that's cute," Brian sniggers at me.

I look from him to Justin, back to Brian. They really are an extraordinarily handsome couple. Justin chuckles and kisses me between my ears. I stretch to rub my nose against his chin in response, before jumping back onto the wardrobe.

"Wolfram!"

The door slams shut behind Justin and Brian, and I yawn.

It is late, and I look worse than Sunshine did when Brian and I came in earlier. My throat starts vibrating deeply as I reach over my head to get at an itchy spot behind my ears that Justin somehow missed.

I like Brian… He may visit me again. Who knows? I might even go and visit him… soon.

That really is a _lovely_ coat.

It is cold outside, and Brian draws Justin closer. The car isn't parked far, but he needs to feel the familiar body against his… near enough that he can inhale his scent. Fuck that the intimacy also twists his insides into an increasingly tighter knot. He hates that having Justin within touching distance might be temporary… that he might have tonight only.

He has no idea where this is going… if there is a "this"... Sure, he kissed Justin… Justin kissed him… _fuck, that was hot!_... but the kid was in distress at the time. Not by a long shot does it default to them being back together.

_Christ_… there will probably be a lengthy conversation first on what exactly "being together" means.

Justin was pretty heated when he left Brian for Ian, and he would be surprised if Justin was willing to just go back to the way things were before the fucking fiddler.

They were going to have to talk, sooner or later… Preferably sooner, get the formalities out of the way... He needs to fuck that ass… needs to thrust inside him so bad… Make Justin his… and his _only_…

_If that's what Justin wants_… Brian recoils at the thought. The question is not whether he will let Justin see the inside of the loft again (especially the bed)... He didn't kick Justin out.

He wasn't the one that left. It changed him irrevocably that Justin did.

He'd spent every moment of the past three months in hell, and that was more than enough time to watch his bullshit and pride burn away, until only the raw truth remained.

Maybe he didn't leave Justin, but he played his part in Justin reaching the point where he slammed the steel door shut for the last time.

There can be no going back to the way it was, for either of them.

They get into the Corvette, and Brian leans over to reach for Justin's seatbelt, realizing too late that the habitual gesture brings him within inches of Justin's face… Fuck, that is _why_ he always does… always _did_ it.

He tenses, overly aware of the erratic beating of his heart… the rapid stirring of Justin's breath on his neck… his stiffening cock...

Bracing himself, he glances over to Justin in time to catch him nervously wetting dry lips. Brian tries to ignore the desire flooding his chest… drowning him… but is unable to take his eyes away from Justin's mouth… pink tongue tip darting… wet, glistening red lips... He knows they are warm and full and fit so perfectly between his… just exactly right for him to suck on that swollen lower lip… nip at the upper one until Justin's mouth is wanton and needy and he wants Brian to tongue fuck him so hard he is practically clawing for it…

Justin stares into the intense dark eyes so close to his and his stomach somersaults in recognition, even though most of Brian's face is hidden in shadow.

_…That look again…_he thinks, shivering involuntarily, but trying to ignore the responding pulsation between his legs

The impulse to run his fingers along the set jaw, to smooth away the tension in the coiled muscles, is so strong that his hands are halfway raised before he realizes what he's doing.

Heat flares in his groin, making him go hard instantly, and he gives an inward groan. Of _all _things to be focusing on… all he can think about is how much he would like to be fucking Brian 'round about now… or rather… be fucked by Brian… feel him inside again…

This is so fucked up! His mother's in the hospital, and he's salivating like some lovesick high school queen, wanting to fall on his knees and beg to take it up the ass, while he's got an exam in…

"Fuck!"

Brian falls back, caught by surprise.

"Brian, shit!"

"What's wrong?" Brian frowns. He hasn't even kissed Justin… yet… and already…

"Jesus… I completely forgot about my exam tomorrow." Glancing at the dashboard, he adds, "Make that this morning…" His chest is heaving as he fights to stay in control of his emotions.

Too much… He is exhausted… and confused… and stressed out… and worried about his mom… and he really, really, really wants Brian… needs him to fuck him… to hold him…

A soft, anxious sound escapes his throat and he grits his mouth shut, self-conscious, for once again being a pathetic princess in front of Brian.

"Hey…" Prying the tense fingers away, Brian rests his palm against Justin's cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb over the corner of the quivering mouth.

"Look at me." Taking Justin's chin between thumb and index finger, he forces the bloodshot eyes to meet his. "I told you, everything is going to be okay. Now let me take care of this."

"But…" Brian waits for Justin to complete the sentence, but he just lies back, knuckling his eyes.

Brian asks quietly, "I want to help… That okay?" Justin gives an imperceptible nod, but the head leaning into his hand is the answer Brian was hoping for.

"All right… I'll arrange with the Dean to reschedule. Your mother's in the hospital, there shouldn't be a problem."

Brian gently combs his fingers through the soft blond hair… _Just can't get enough… _

Justin exhales noisily at the sensations prickling his scalp. He doesn't give a flying fuck anymore. All that he does care about is Brian… and if Brian doesn't want him, then… well, fuck, then he'll deal with that tomorrow. But right now…

Reaching up for Brian's hand, Justin interlocks their fingers almost too tightly.

Warmth courses through Brian's body, making his cock twitch again, but also… something else. Relief? Hope that the small gesture confirms what he wanted Justin to have "said" to him in the apartment?

Justin places a lingering kiss on the inside of Brian's wrist.

"I want to take the exam." Tired eyes find Brian's, and he forces a reassuring smile at the concern in the hazel gaze. He doesn't want to resist any longer, he has to touch… Brian's cheek is stubbly under his fingertips.

_Shit, I love his face so much… his mouth, soft lips, beautiful eyes… I could just stay here and look at him forever…_

"Justin…" Brian's voice is husky, and Justin startles… He didn't realize he was caressing Brian's face.

"I just want to get it over and done with."

They stare at each other, and Brian nods.

"What time does it start?"

"Ten."

"Do you need anything? Pencils, brushes…"

"Oh, fuck…"

"I'll take that as a yes. Do you want to come pick it up tomorrow morning, or is it something you can buy?"

"I'll come and pick it up."

"We'll come and pick it up." Smoldering dark eyes… _angry_...

Justin remains silent, staring at Brian. He doesn't do anything to hide his longing. Brian fidgets at the increased pressure in Justin's touch, the expression in the blue eyes making him weak in the knees and extremely uncomfortable at the same time.

"What?"

"Nothing… I'm just looking…"

Brian tries to move back in his seat, but Justin snakes a strong grip around his neck, pulling them close.

"You're so goddamn beautiful…" he whispers against Brian's lips, before kissing him, passionately.

Brian groans. "Justin…"

Justin cuts him off, sweeping his tongue over Brian's lower lip, before urgently probing... wanting to be let inside, but trying to hold back and wait for Brian. "Not now… We'll talk…"

He pushes nearer, his breath hitching at the smell… the feel… the taste of Brian. Justin is shivering.

"But not now… please… just… kiss me…" The whimper he's been trying to keep back all night suddenly breaks loose, and he falls into Brian, his fingers clenching painfully in the dark hair, bringing their mouths together with a desperation that flames through Brian's gut.

Brian freezes, his body screaming, trying to not succumb to the aching... the _fucking need _to reclaim what is his, what has always been his.

Justin is dead on his feet, and although he doesn't doubt the sincerity of the kisses, he does know that Justin isn't thinking straight... can't, not while he is as physically and emotionally drained as he is.

Digging his fingers into Justin's back, he grunts, meeting Justin's intensity, surpassing it as he pours all of himself into kissing him back.

The too thin body folds under him, clinging, his arms clutching behind Brian's neck.

"You need to get some sleep." Brian gently captures Justin's lips, melting them into each other in another concentrated kiss… sucking his lips… sliding his tongue tip between them… exploring Justin's mouth deeply…

There's no resistance in the slender frame, and he feels Justin's grip on him weaken and slip off his shoulders.

Brian catches him, cradling Justin with a warm hand folded around the back of his head. He is temporarily rendered speechless at the thought… the _reality_ of having him here, in his car, in his arms.

Fastening Justin's seatbelt, Brian brushes the blond hair back and places a soft kiss on his brow… marveling at the flood of emotions the single, small gesture unleashes in him.

Justin is asleep before Brian's lips leave his skin.


	7. Chapter 7

_Beam's PoV_

It is a wonder we make it to the hospital without ending up as casualties ourselves, with the amount of time Brian spends staring at Justin instead of watching the road. He has placed Justin's hand on his thigh and keeps weaving the slender fingers between his, palms pressing together.

I almost feel compelled to purr on his behalf, especially since I can see his eyes. Ethan, for all his promises, never looked at Justin like Brian does... full of gentle fire and searing adoration... not even at the beginning, when the fiddler was all over his latest conquest.

I can definitely see myself getting along with this guy. He might actually deserve Justin.

The two were _very_ preoccupied when we left Ian's, and it wasn't difficult to get into the car unseen. It is one of those small technicalities again. Nobody specifically said I _couldn't_ go with them, but I've learned to live by _"better to ask forgiveness than permission."_

Getting in, they tossed their coats into the back without a glance in my direction. I noiselessly disappeared under My Coat, furiously kneading at it until I had an unobstructed view of tonight's rendition of _"Smooch,"_the in-car entertainment. My new bed was by far the best I'd ever had, and it was with great difficulty that I restrained myself from voicing my appreciation. I wanted to tell Justin, share my comfortable surroundings with him, but he had important things of his own to discuss. Instead, I gave my two new favorite people up on the main stage my undivided attention.

They were making out like first-time-in-love teenagers, and yet it was so much more than that. They did nothing but kiss, but it was nothing as simple as kissing.

They were starving for each other. Justin was making faint, desperate noises, and Brian was reassuring him with everything but words, until he eventually quieted down. Their hunger gave way to such tenderness that I almost felt embarrassed to watch. Almost. I know Justin loves Brian, but that doesn't mean I have to trust him to be alone with the young artist. I am paranoid after Ethan, and I'm not about to take any chances just because someone has good dress-sense (My Coat really is _lovely!_).

If it weren't for Justin finally succumbing to his exhaustion, we would probably still be there… well, Justin and Brian would. I would be snarling outside on the curb, having been thrown out when they took the reunion to the back seat. Make no mistake, I have a very good idea what the two of them are like when given the opportunity to drop their hands lower than each other's shoulders. Brian and I have too much in common for me not to.

I think back to the figure I met on the stairs earlier... Looking at him now, I can't believe it's the same human being. Almost all of the sadness has lifted. I know it will never completely leave him. His face has softened nearly beyond recognition, but there are still traces of stress, especially when he grips Justin's hand. There are other tell-tale signs of things not quite being in place… _yet_… but his mouth and the lines around his eyes have all undergone a metamorphosis.

Justin must still go back to see Ethan, and he and Brian need to talk (using actual human language for a change!)... but as I watch Brian press his lips to the back of Justin's hand, I know everything is going to work out perfectly.

_Brian's PoV_

I can't keep my eyes off him. Blond hair falling across his forehead, his face relaxed, a small smile curved around that beautiful mouth.

His lips are still moist, red, a bit swollen from when we both got so carried away, so fucking lost in each other that there was just no other way but to push hard and shove deep into one another. Still, somehow it was the slowest I have ever tongue-fucked him, and it makes me hard just thinking about it. Not that it was only my cock that was into it… I couldn't breathe, damn near had a heart attack when he pulled me in, opening his mouth for me, begging me to be inside him.

My hands were shaking, but I didn't even mind him knowing. There are a lot of things I don't mind him knowing anymore. In fact, there's a lot I want to tell him... _need_ to tell him, even though I know he knows most of it already.

The way he kissed me... shit. My knees had gone fucking _weak_ when he grabbed me in the apartment, but that wasn't even worth mentioning in comparison to _this_. I wouldn't have minded if I _did_ have a heart attack. I can't think of a better way to die than right there, lost in spit and desire and warmth... _Justin_...

Wait… the better way would be with my cock up his ass, the world exploding around us as he comes with me... _no_…_ fuck_… the best way would be with his cock up _my _ass…

_Christ_. I fucking _loved_ having him fuck me, but I was too proud to tell him. The few times it happened I let Justin think I was just indulging him, just putting up with it, when in fact...

That will have to change. God… if there was going to be an opportunity for making any changes. I'm still not sure whether all the kissing means that this will be more than just one night, since it's also a night that Justin is so out of it, he can't stay on his feet. I don't assume he has been keeping up with this rollercoaster evening.

He's the reason I am alone at the loft most nights... that my usual hangouts haven't been enough since he's been gone... hadn't been for quite a while even before he left. But again I was too proud… too _fucking scared _to acknowledge it to myself and to tell him.

He left, and I lost him for more than three months. Three months of worse torture than those first three days he laid in that fucking hospital room... when I didn't know whether I was ever going to see those sapphire eyes sparkle at me again… people moving around him the only thing that told me he was at least still breathing.

I tried holding onto that smile... the one he gave me when we danced and he removed my jacket, threw it to Daphne, turned back to me, and pulled me to him by the scarf I had around his neck when we first walked onto the dance floor. He was more beautiful than I had ever seen him (with clothes on), mischievously raising his eyebrows at me, all but giggling in his excitement to make me move towards _him_, not him just following me. I thought a lot about it afterwards... whether he was more beautiful in that moment, or when he walked away from the Jeep and he threw me rays of sunshine over his shoulder.

Losing him to Ian was worse, because I cared more for him than I did when we danced that night. It would have been enough, after the bashing, to just know that he was going to be all right, even if I never saw him again… never kissed him… held him… was inside him… fucked him again… Fuck, I'll even call it "making love" if that will make him smile for me.

But he did walk out of that hospital, and I got a second chance, which I fucked up because I got scared. Again. Scared at not being able to resist him, of not ever wanting to deny him anything. I drove him away, into Ewan's arms, and it nearly destroyed me. I tried to speed up the process, but alcohol and drugs and mindless fucking can only be of so much assistance.

Now… he is breathing next to me, the taste of him is in my mouth, his smell on my skin, in my hair, on my hands. Permeating the air all around me, making my senses swim in the close confinements of the car.

I don't know what he wants… what he needs… and how much of it I will be able to give him this time. But I do know what I want, and how far I am willing to go to get it... Frankly, if it's not the moon, I can't think of anything on the list of his heart's desires that I wouldn't give him faster than he could form the thought.

There is, after all, only one thing that I want, that I need…

I stifle the hope rising in my throat with my mouth bruising against his knuckles.

_Justin PoV_

I freak out before we make it halfway to my mom's room, cold sweat breaking out over my body. Ice runs in goosebumps down my spine, but I'm too hot at the same time. My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth and of no use to my dry lips. I try to ignore the rush of blood in my ears… the needle pricks in my fingers.

I must have made some sound, because Brian is instantly there, holding me, leading me into a dark, empty room in some deserted corridor somewhere... Trust him to instinctively know where those are.

"I can't… Just get me the _fuck_ out…" I sound hysterical, and so fucking _stupid_, but I can't get myself to shut up. My arms are clenched around him, with no plans of ever letting go again.

"Justin!" He shakes me. Hard. I stutter and hiccup, my teeth rattling, but he's got my attention. In fact, I am sure he's got a lot more of it than he wanted.

His eyes are frantic, and I start to realize that this might actually be harder for him than it is for me. At least I have already cried oceans about white buildings and small rooms and shitty food and never being able to draw again and not remembering the "best" night of my life.

"Brian…" He sees it coming, knows what I'm going to say, and doesn't give me the chance.

His tongue on my lips is wet, licking over broken skin, his kiss gentle, but there is no mistaking the message. We are not going to talk about him, end of discussion.

All of a sudden I can't stand it anymore, and I step back, catching him by surprise and easily breaking his grip.

"Fuck you, Brian! You always do this!"

My voice is loud, and I know I'm teetering on the edge of losing control. The familiar numbness of raging emotions is creeping up the back of my neck, aiming straight for the little bit of my brain that has been working furiously all night at trying to keep my already very fucked up life together.

"You _never_ want to talk…" The voice in my head yells louder than the one I'm yelling at Brian with, and I trail off, remembering how I silenced him in the car earlier when he tried to stop me from _not_ talking, when he wanted to talk first.

He doesn't say anything... just stands there, watching me, his hands in his pockets. His features are rearranged in their normal half-scowl, and I stare at him, once again amazed at how he can wipe his face clean like that.

Just like he fucking did that night I went to find him at Woody's, after I had just gotten home from the hospital.

We were in his apartment, I was blabbering, and he was carefully avoiding my eyes. Until I asked him why he had never come to see me. He got up, walked away and turned his back on me. I stepped around him, unprepared for his expression. I swear I could feel the shock of it rattling my bones.

Jesus… and I knew. I knew he blamed himself, for all of it.

It was so unexpected that I completely forgot to press him on the hospital visit point, and we never picked up on it afterwards, because we never fucking talked.

He wants to talk? Tonight? Now? Then we'll fucking talk.

"Why didn't you visit me when I was in the hospital?" My words are clipped. I'm trying to hold back on being back there, being that Justin again... angry, hurt, scared… so _fucking_ scared, and him never there for me. Chris Hobbs wasn't my biggest demon during those long nights... an absent Brian was. Every night I fucking cried myself to sleep... so many times, fucking screamed myself awake... and every fucking morning opened my eyes to an empty room.

"Brian." I walk towards him, shivering with the intensity of too many memories and emotions. I cross my arms over my chest, clenching my hands in my armpits. I am convinced that if I don't I might do something stupid, like throw a punch at that incredibly beautiful jaw of his.

But _Christ_, I want to… I want so much to hurt him, to somehow get payback for the hell he put me through... for making me think he didn't give a shit... that his twinkie-toy was broken and no longer any fun to play with.

"Brian, I swear to God… I could fucking kill you with my bare hands right now…" I heave through clenched teeth. "Jesus Christ, answer me!"

I hear my voice rising, and I don't give a shit. I'm chest to chest with him, but he isn't going anywhere. Just keeps staring at me with those big, hazel eyes that I am supposed to be such a fucking genius at reading. That was always it... me making his life so fucking easy… reading his mind… completing the blank spaces for him… putting words in his mouth…

He reaches for my shoulders, but removes his hands quickly when he sees that I noticed he's shaking, quickly turning away to stand in front of the window. Another one of his brilliantly effective conflict-avoidance techniques.

I open my mouth for what will be a full-blown queening, the likes of which he hasn't seen in a long time, when he unexpectedly lifts resolute eyes to mine.

"I was there," he says in a subdued voice. He is close enough that I can see the perspiration forming on his brow, but his stare is unwavering, his eyes… unguarded.

_He...?_

"You _what_?" I ask, taken aback. "What the _fuck _are you talking about?"

"I was there at night, after you fell asleep," he replies without any hesitation. His voice has gone so quiet that I'm breathing through my mouth, afraid I won't be able to hear him above my wheezing.

I don't believe it… I was with Ethan for weeks, during which time I didn't see Brian, I didn't talk to Brian, I didn't hear from or about Brian. My life was a fucked up mess, but at least it was a stable fucked up mess. Tonight… tonight has all the potential to turn everything right-side up again, but what's with the fucking shock therapy?

"I don't understand… What _the fuck are you talking about?_" I sway, lightheaded, and he catches me... holds me so tight that I am sure I can feel his heart kicking against his ribs, and me. I take a perverse pleasure in knowing that his is beating even faster than mine, that he is so fucked, because this is it... I'm calling him on his bullshit, right here, right now.

His fingers are gripping my hair too hard, his chin uncomfortably heavy on the top of my head, but I don't say anything. Yet. I want to give him the chance to come clean on his own.

Exhaling slowly, he apparently comes to a decision... a good one, as it turns out. It gives me an excuse not to kill him.

"I was there, outside your room… every night." His voice is a puff of air above me somewhere, but I hear him. Every part of me resonates with what he said, and I clutch at him when my knees start trembling so much that I don't think I'll be able to stand on my own.

I'm tired, so fucking tired… of pretending… with Brian… with Ethan… with myself… _Oh, God_…

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whisper, my words smothered in his scarf. He might as well throw the piece of material away after tonight, because it is completely ruined. "And don't give me some fucking bullshit that you're not my mother or my therapist, that there was nothing that you could have done for me, that it wouldn't have mattered whether I knew or not."

I can feel him pull away from me, back into that place deep inside him that he still fucking thinks I don't know about.

It's as low a blow as they come, but fuck if he is going to get away with this again. Leaning back, I slowly pull the scarf through my fingers, deliberately tugging on it slightly. I hold his stare. I know about the white silk scarf... Daphne has told me enough about that night… and the rest I saw in Brian's eyes, when the scarf was not white anymore, and I pulled it from beneath his shirt.

He shudders, violently… but I keep going…tugging a bit harder.

"Ju-…"

"Brian, don't fuck with me. Not tonight."

We lock gazes, and I hold his cornered eyes while I deliberately twirl the scarf around my hand, over-accentuating every move, tightening the pressure around his throat. I need him to understand how serious I am about this. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and doesn't lower his hand again. I let him hide.

"I had to stay away…" His breath hitches, and I wait. He is shitting himself, having had to come this far... admitting what he would definitely consider to be too much... and I give him room.

But he doesn't continue, and I tug on the scarf. He grimaces. The mask is starting to budge, and I'm fighting tears… but I keep going… for both our sakes.

"…before you sent me away," he adds, barely audible. I am so thrown by the confession that I merely blink at him rapidly, my mouth hanging wide open.

"You stayed away… so I couldn't send you away…" My voice must be impossible to hear.

He removes his hand from his face but doesn't say anything further. The mask is slipping more by the second, and he is not doing anything to prevent it from doing so.

"Why…?" I have to swallow a couple of times before some coherent sound comes out. Reaching out, I lay my palm against his cheek, softly stroking it. Christ, I didn't think there was anything left of me to shatter. But, looking at Brian…

He closes his eyes, dropping his head into my touch.

"Why would I do that?" He doesn't answer me. I didn't expect him to.

I've gotten from him as much as I'm going to get tonight. That's not saying I won't bring this up again, or that he won't let me, but I know how difficult this was for him, and I know what he was willing to do for me... for us.

Besides, I know the answer to my question.

Brian Kinney doesn't believe in love, although there is no one in the known universe who _wants _to more than he does (not that he knows it). I think it's the only way he wouldn't mind being proven wrong... to find out love does exist.

His expectation is "you fuck up, you're gone," which is why he didn't think I would want to be with him after the bashing, which he believed was his fault, his fuck up. But I did want to be with him, and for a while he allowed himself to accept an "us" (fuck what he says about it, that was what we were).

But he never believed that I would stay, and then… well… fuck… then I ran off with Ethan... and he got to reiterate his "I don't believe in love" self-preservation shit.

_Jesus! …Stayed away before you told me to… _

I did tell him to go, and he let me, and we both have raw, seeping wounds to show for it.

Tonight, here we are, in the very same building that has changed both our lives radically, twice. The night Gus was born… and during my almost permanent residency.

I don't say anything more. I don't need to know anything more. It is his turn to get some answers.

My hands are sure on the sides of his face, and I kiss him, aching to catch up on three lonely months without him, and to make up for three lonely months without me.

Brian Kinney doesn't do emotion… The lips under mine must be trembling from cold…

"Brian…"

Brian screws his eyes shut, willing his pulse to return to whatever qualifies as his "normal" heart rate these days. He knows that voice, and he knows the look that accompanies it… lust burning in wide blue eyes… pupils dilated with arousal... chest heaving… like it is now.

He lifts his head, and promptly gives up on trying to keep his blood pressure down.

He was wrong.

It's not just lust… it's a need so intense that he can only describe it as being the equivalent of his own.

For what feels to him like ages, they just stare at each other. He watches Justin's eyes turn a deeper shade of blue and knows his own are following suit, hazel darkening as they continue to breathe the same air... each breath expelled brushing over the other's mouth…

Justin yields first. He simply doesn't have enough energy left to keep fighting what he wants the most. What he has been wanting longer than he cares to remember... cold nights spent spooned with the wrong body. At the beginning, at least. It became more bearable when he was alone in bed... Ethan out partying... and it was just Beam cuddling against him, snoring in funny little pleasure noises as Justin stroked the soft body.

Hooking a hand around Brian's neck, his tongue flits over Brian's lips.

He catches Brian completely by surprise.

"Justin…" Brian tries, struggling for rational thought, as his sanity loudly supports his body's suggestion to forget about fucking overrated words and sentences and just…

"Sshhh…" Justin deepens their kiss, his tongue determinedly charming its way into Brian's mouth, groaning hungrily when he feels Brian's hands clench on his hips.

If Justin wants to, especially for this discussion, concentrate on a much more satisfying form of communication, Brian is not complaining. It will make what he has left to say so much easier.

"See… we're still talking... I'm even listening…" Justin's voice breaks when his own words register.

Not struggling any longer, Brian locks his hands around the back of the unresisting head and kisses the not-so-twinkie-anymore like he did in front of Ian… like he started telling him again in the car… but softer, slower, lips sliding over each other, sucking Justin's lower lip… Justin gently nibbling his upper lip, tongues slow-dancing. Their breathing is changing fast, becoming more erratic.

"What do you hear?" Brian asks, in an almost reverential whisper... worshipping, touching and tasting as much skin as he can reach without stripping Justin. This isn't the time or the place. Feeling Justin's muscles constrict around his fingers as he stretches him… seeing the tight ass open… thrusting into his partner… burying himself so deep inside Justin that he will never be able to leave again... is _not_ going to happen in a goddamn hospital.

"This…" Justin chokes, matching Brian's hands stroke for stroke… his mouth kiss for kiss…

It happens without warning. Brian is used to his groin catching fire whenever he is with Justin, but not used to the heat burning from deep inside him, through him, until it practically singes his hair, leaving him grinning like an idiot, tingling with… happiness.

"…All right?" He pants against Justin's lips huskily, resting their foreheads together.

Justin gives a small nod. For now, it is. They are far from done, but Brian has told him enough, and frankly, he can't handle any more big emotional revelations.

"What about your mom?"

The mere idea of remaining in this building that houses all his nightmares sends Justin shivering again. "You'll stay with me?"

"For as long as you want me to." Brian's embrace tightens, and Justin breathes deep, inhaling the scent of Brian… _his_ Brian… This time he is going to make fucking sure of it.

_He will not have to wonder again whether he should remove himself from my life before I can do it for him._

_Beam's PoV_

I watch impatiently as Justin and Brian approach the car, whimpering in relief.

Yes, _I'm_ whimpering.

I hate this place. It reeks of fear, anxiety and pain. Too many humans and far too many dreams have died here. I want to leave. Right fucking _now_.

Justin looks somewhat better than he did when we left the apartment earlier tonight. There is even a smile playing around his mouth. He is clearly bushed, but more… yes, I think "peaceful" best describes it… than I have seen him in a long time.

I suspect Brian's got everything to do with that. He is so wrapped around Justin they are practically walking in each other's footsteps. They seem to be used to it, each knowing intuitively where the other one's feet are, and not bumping into one another.

Brian presses his nose against Justin's temple, saying something that makes Justin grin like an idiot. For an instant, he lays his head against Brian's shoulder, and I murmur my appreciation of the striking sight, Justin's blond hair in stark contrast with My Coat.

They are drawing nearer, and I duck behind the seat, out of sight.

Getting in, Justin lies back against the seat with a shaky sigh.

"You okay?" Brian inquires with concern.

Justin turns his head but doesn't reply right away.

"You're not going to buckle me in again?" he asks seductively.

_Brian, my friend, you are so fucked… I'll give up My Coat if you can resist … _

Brian looks at Justin for a long moment before he leans over. Taking his chin between thumb and forefinger, he raises Justin's mouth and kisses him unhurriedly. His reluctance in pulling away earns him that breathtaking smile, and he grins back as he reaches for Justin's seatbelt.

"Brian…" Justin's voice is so soft that even I have to strain my ears to hear him. "Take me home…"

I smirk. _Good boy!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Justin's PoV_

I'm dreaming... I think… I'm in the Corvette with Brian…. I think… I've never been in his latest toy, so I can't tell for sure.

He is holding my hand, and I grasp his desperately with both of mine, knowing he's going to disappear within a heartbeat, and I will be without him again.

It's a familiar dream, one I've been having more and more often... more times a night than the nightmares I used to have. Or rather, I've been having more Brian nightmares than baseball bat nightmares.

The end was always the same... His hand would slip from mine, and I'd wake up in a cold sweat. My longing for him doubled… _tripled_ every time I had the dream. I missed him so goddamn much that there was little else I thought about, whether awake or asleep.

Sometimes I would get up and paint him, draw him, trying to fill the emptiness inside me with visual reminders.

Sometimes I would get up and stand in front of the window for hours, staring out at a darkness that mirrored my soul.

Most of the time, I reached out for my furry shadow, less than an arm's distance away. Beam kept unnervingly close, but there was a comfort and peace in his presence I rarely felt when I wasn't with him. He would get up, yawn lazily, scoot over and flop down almost on top of me. The huge, contented sigh from such a small body made me smile, always. All his happiness overflow sounds did. He was purring even before my fingers were buried in his soft coat, and I curled around him, in the way Brian always did with me. It didn't take long before his rhythmic vibrations sent me into Brian's arms again.

But something about this dream is different. There's the car… That's new, I've never dreamt I'm in his car before. And usually my hands would be grabbing air by now, not be enfolded by his more tightly than I'm holding on to him.

"Brian…" I would not recognize the sluggish voice as my own if the one word uttered weren't what I desire most. I am pleading, sounding pathetic, but it doesn't matter, because it is just a dream and he will never know.

"I'm here." The lips on my forehead burn, blazing through the haze of what is real and what is not. My head is spinning, and I can't get my eyes open. Maybe they are open.

His free hand is fisting in my hair. If I am asleep, only dreaming, the sharp needles pushing into my scalp should be waking me up any minute now…

"Justin..." I know the hitch in his voice, the husky tone, the slight pressure against my mouth. I know what's coming, and oh God, I want it. I fucking _need_ the fire to move into me.

My tongue rushes at his in an eager embrace. I swallow, almost choking in my haste to feel his spit heating my throat, making me feel alive again.

I don't want to. I'm scared that if I do, I am going to lose him again. But I have to know, because he _tastes_ real… I cautiously relax one hand and skim fingertips over his face, checking features against those burned into my mind... verifying lines I have painted and sketched in every possible color and medium, depicting his every mood.

I pull away just enough to breathe his name as my hand explores his, confirming that the one in mine is flesh and blood.

Oh, God… it's real… If it's not, I'm hoping that I have finally lost my mind, if it means that I can spend the rest of my life insanely happy, enjoying him like this.

"Christ… you're real…" I am finally forced to suck air into my lungs and use the opportunity to make some brilliant observations.

He looks confused for a moment, and then buries his nose in my hair, sweeping kisses over my temple.

I feel him smile, and I finally believe.

All of me remembers, every part of me finds its way home… My legs wrap around his hips, my arms circling his waist, my head finding that perfect spot underneath his chin, a bit to the right of his throat. He moves and my thigh muscles strain instinctively. He isn't going to go anywhere without me glued to him for a while.

Both his hands are in my hair, soothingly massaging the back of my neck. I force my legs to let go… just a little.

I have some vague recollections of the evening, some memories more vivid than others... good memories. Kissing… There was lots of kissing… Brian was so fucking hot… and my mom's going to be okay…

I look around, for the first time noticing the soft blue light, soft blue sheets…

"I'm at the loft?" I ask, bewildered. I don't remember that part.

"You fell asleep in the car." His lips sucking at the base of my throat send ripples of pleasure through me, and I close my eyes, riding the sensation. "I didn't want to wake you." I make a small noise when he nibbles my ear.

"You carried me up?"

"You're not very heavy." He frowns at me. I yank him down, smothering his concern with an impatient mouth.

"Jesus, you taste incredible… I've missed kis-…" He completes my sentence for me, his body pressing into mine as his tongue wrestles mine aside, delving deep.

It wasn't a dream. It isn't a dream. It's better… it's Brian.

_Beam's PoV_

I wait until I hear their breathing slow down, becoming deep and even, before I move towards the sofa. Brian has very thoughtfully spread My Coat on it.

Trying to keep the low hum in my throat from rising to the appropriate pleasure level, I knead My Coat, simply delighted with the way the soft fabric ripples under my claws.

I rest my head on my forepaws, my tail loosely folded over my nose, and sigh contentedly. My new home is quite acceptable.

The loft is silent, except for soft snoring noises from the bedroom. There are no wailings from strings and wood that I have to block out. I don't have to wrap my tail tightly around my ears anymore.

This really is a _lovely_ new bed.

Brian takes another pull at his cigarette, the end of it glowing brightly for a moment as he walks closer to the window.

His evening hadn't turned out quite as he had planned... In some ways, better, in others... No, it was all good, even though he'd been severely tested on his decision to _talk_ to Justin... That he would give him anything he wanted if it would make Justin his again.

It was fucking intense in the hospital room when Justin asked the _one _question he wasn't prepared for, the one answer he wanted to keep for himself.

He had been fully prepared to see Ian and Justin all cozily tucked in their fucking romantic _love_ nest. Fortunately, that expectation turned out to be wrong, and he ended up with Justin's lips on his. That brightened the evening significantly.

But he still had to walk down dimly lit hallways, past glass windows that put on display only misery and pain. All his defenses were on high alert, fighting reminders from those previous visits, but he had nothing against Justin adding that fucking scarf... tugging with it at memories he was sure had left with Justin… had left with his partner.

He shudders, inhaling the smoke deeply. He had, in all but so many words, admitted that he cared... that it mattered very much whether Justin stayed or left. It did before Ian, and it still does.

The question is, now what? Justin got the answers he wanted. He fucking knows…

"Brian?"

Brian ignores the apprehension in the pit of his stomach, and stubs out the cigarette on his way back to the bedroom.

Wide-open eyes hold his when he approaches the bed. It is too dark to see their color, but he doesn't have to. They're deep and blue and sparkling and make his head swim and his gut clench and his dick hard if he stares into them too long, which is every time he looks into them.

He takes the searching hand in his, and sitting down next to Justin, weaves their fingers together.

Justin struggles upright, rubbing his eyes a couple of times to clear the cobwebs. He gradually recognizes the fingers' play patterns as typical of a very tense Brian, and frowns, suddenly fully awake. What is bothering Brian so much that he's pacing the apartment in the middle of the night? Everything was fine when they went to bed earlier. He was here, back in the loft, back with Brian…

_…Oh…_

"Brian." Justin grips the restless hand in his, waiting until he goes still. "I'm not going back to him."

"I know," Brian answers in a far-off tone.

_Then what…?_

Justin contemplates pushing Brian in a corner again, forcing him to tell him what's wrong. Fuck… he was so sure they were done with this shit. The look on Brian's face when he took hold of his scarf…

_Oh, Christ…_

If only he had known... if only Brian had told him before… then what? Would it have prevented him from not accepting that what Brian gave him was enough? Would it have prevented him from… from…

"I won't send you away… again," Justin whispers, swallowing hard at the emotion rising in his chest. Brian's jaw muscles clench under his palm and he rubs them, carefully working at the stress in the way he knows Brian loves.

Brian looks up slowly but doesn't say anything. Throwing back the covers, Justin pats the pillow, needing Brian's warm body to ensure him that they are okay.

"Move over."

Justin hides a smile at those words as he scrambles back to his side of the bed. It was a difficult evening, for both of them, and he knows Brian is struggling to get his footing. He needs to take control and assert himself, even if it's only with sleeping habits.

Brian curls around him from behind, lacing their fingers. Justin promptly pushes back into his embrace, closing what distance is still left between them.

The gentle mouth on the nape of his neck is a pleasant surprise, and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

_Brian's PoV_

"Stay." My voice is barely above a whisper, lost in his hair. I fight the impulse to clear my throat, the urgency to repeat myself. I will _not _fucking beg.

I feel him stiffen in my arms. He is silent for a long time, during which I barely breathe, before he turns around. His face is expressionless, and try as I might, I can't figure out what he's thinking.

_I have taught him too fucking well…_

It's another too long moment later before he finally slides his arms around my neck, passionately kissing me with a soft choking sound. I taste his tears but don't say anything, not trusting my voice. He falls asleep cradled in my arms, my lips still captured between his.

It is the best either of us have slept in more than three months.

Brian stops as the light turns red and leans over to give Justin a quick kiss, teasingly wetting Justin's lips with the tip of his tongue.

He is still not happy with Justin's appearance... There are dark circles around his eyes, and he is far too pale… God, the feather-light body in his arms last night… But he is relaxed and smiling, even though he is clearly tired and has an exam in less than an hour. Brian runs the back of his hand over Justin's, resting on his leg.

"Why Beam?"

"Huh?" Justin's face scrunches up in confusion.

"The cat. Why is he called Beam?"

Justin laughs... the same carefree sound he made when Brian asked to be introduced to Beam.

"Why, Brian Kinney, are you actually interested in something soft?"

Brian takes the dig in good spirits and shrugs. "He's okay."

"He's fucking gorgeous." Reaching up, he runs his fingers through Brian's hair. "It's weird… Whenever I worked, he was there, watching. After a while, I got so used to it I started talking to him. Sometimes I had the feeling he understood everything I said. It's stupid, I know…" Justin blushes and buries his head against Brian's shoulder.

Brian gives an exaggerated snort. "Indeed…" _Fucking adorable when he gets all embarrassed_. "…but there _is_ something strange about that orange ball."

"Oh?" Justin lifts his head, curiously looking at Brian.

"Mmm…" Brian's tone is bored, deciding they are not going to continue this ridiculous conversation.

"He reminded me of you, actually," Justin says.

That gets Brian's attention.

_Beam's PoV_

My ears perk up at the mention of my name.

I am under My Coat, keeping an eye on my humans as we drive Justin to school. It is peak traffic, but that doesn't deter Brian from touching Justin every chance he gets.

I have never seen two people kiss as much as these two do. They just can't get enough of each other. I'm not complaining… It's kind of cute, and it makes Justin deliriously happy, which gives Brian a both paws up to stick his tongue down Justin's throat as often and for as long as he wants.

It feels like I've known Brian for ages, having listened to and studied Justin on the subject. Even my name has something to do with his partner, but he never fully explained, and I didn't ask. It made him smile every time he called me, and I didn't want to spoil it for him by accidentally drudging up even worse memories than he was already constantly fighting.

Justin had been with us for a couple of days, but I was still going out of my way to ignore him, darting out of the way when he tried to touch me. If I had known how talented his fingers were in finding all my weakest spots, I would have curled up against him from the very first night.

Instead, I was severely pissed off at the inconvenience his arrival had caused me, but at the same time fascinated with what he was doing with the pieces of paper scattered all over the apartment. Some of them were huge and would have taken me quite some time to shred properly.

Things between Ewan and Justin started sprinting downhill on the inside of four weeks... not that either of them would admit it, of course.

But I knew. Justin didn't play with the long sticks and pretty colors as much as he used to. Instead, he spent hours in front of the window, just staring out. When the papers did make an appearance, he worked on them, he didn't play anymore. The colors weren't as pretty as they were when he first arrived, they were darker... sad.

It was then that my curiosity finally got the best of me. Besides, the boy was clearly unhappy, and Ethan wasn't doing anything about it. He could do with some intelligent company.

I approached cautiously. There is the rare occasion when manners are called for, which I _do_ have, and this was one of them. I waited to be invited.

He sat back when he saw me, gave me a preview of that radiating smile of his, and asked whether I wanted a closer look. Again minding my manners, I slowly circled the white surface. I had no idea what he was doing, but I was hooked on watching him move the thin sticks, resulting in the white suddenly not being just white anymore.

"It's called painting," he said, his smile growing. In fact, he looked very much like he does today. Not quite the same silly grin, but at least his mouth was moving upwards.

"You want to try it?" I looked up, startled. Me? I didn't even completely understand what "painting" was, never mind doing it.

My experience with paper hadn't gone beyond stripping it into tiny little pieces as quickly as possible. I hadn't seen him do that, so I very brilliantly figured out that we didn't play with paper in the same way. His game was foreign to me.

My claws itched at the mere smell of paper, while he stroked it, caressing and loving the fusion of paper and liquid... by virtue of the short stick that left black marks behind.

What he did looked like a lot of fun, and I'm all for fun.

Throwing pride to the wind, I pushed my head into his hand, sliding under his arms, my tail skillfully following the contours of his body, tickling his chin and whipping over his mouth. I all but batted my eyelashes.

That's when I discovered he had magic hands. Scratching behind my ears, under my chin, wiggling fingertips along my spine, all the way to my tail… oh, that one was particularly deadly. My body would act out on its own, like a see-saw (yes, I stayed with a family once, and should be in fucking trauma therapy for it!). My head dropped like a cat in a sunspot… my cheek vibrating flat on the table… my ass in the air, begging for him to do the wriggle-thing again… starting with my nose… between my ears, and all the way to my tail…

The mere memory makes me shiver with pleasure, a tingling running up and down my back.

It was immensely embarrassing, but I couldn't help myself. I am ashamed of it, but every now and again the animal in me pounces to the forefront, shoves my brain to one side, and causes me to act all weird and stupid.

That was _so_ one of those moments. And it wasn't only the one time. His wriggle-petting made me fly higher than a sniff of Catnip. I'd slink and purr and nip against and at Justin's legs whenever we were alone in the apartment, wanting him to do it again.

My begging always made him smile. He even giggled a couple of times. If degrading myself chased the shadows from his face, then I was happy to indulge him. That I also got something out of it was a bonus.  
>Justin had to ask me again about playing with his paper and colors... I was that far gone. I could barely get my eyes open, and I'm sure he had to talk a bit louder than normal, just to be heard above the resonating vibrations from deep in my chest.<p>

I finally managed to get back on my haunches, taking special care to curl my tail around my paws, hoping I could thereby recover some of my dignity.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead. My head flew up. It was quite unexpected. Nobody had ever done that before. Not because I'm not lovable (I'm fucking gorgeous!), but because I didn't allow it. It showed affection, and affection led to a bond with whoever the caretaker was at that stage. And that would just never do. I didn't get tied down, not by _anyone_.

Justin was different.

I let him kiss my head, always, after that. Whenever he wanted. He even playfully rubbed his nose in my soft tummy hair. He said I was the most beautiful cat he had ever seen. He loved tangling his fingers in my thick coat, sometimes just sitting… staring… thinking… absentmindedly rubbing my hair all the wrong way.

I had never bathed as much as since Justin came to live with us, and I didn't mind.

"You can come a bit closer." Justin was motioning me towards the middle of the paper. Paw by very careful paw, I made my way to where he had dripped some colors.

"Okay, so you don't have to do this if you don't want to. But there's no other way, really, that you can try, except by using your paws. It's going to be messy… but I'll help you get the paint off afterwards?"

Justin looked so hopeful that I decided to indulge him. I hated getting my feet wet, and having things stuck between my toes drove me out of my mind, but for him, I was willing to explore my hidden painting talents.

I got as far as putting a paw down in what Justin called "Cerulean," and it seared through me like a live current. Cold and wet and oozing, it clung to my paw pad.

I yelled, scrambled around on the paper trying to get my footing, flew off the table and staggered around the room, stopping every so often to lick and bite at the offense between my toes.

Justin freaked out, calling me and begging to let him help, which I eventually did because the stuff tasted like shit and it was going to take me hours to clean it up if I had to do it myself.

He had me cradled in his arms on the way to the bathroom when he laughed and said, "Beam."

Brian parks and, grabbing Justin by the back of his neck, hungrily kisses him. Justin gasps for air, playfully pushing Brian back.

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

Brian mumbles something against Justin's throat and slips a hand underneath his T-shirt. He squirms and giggles when Brian scrapes his nails over a ticklish spot.

Pulling at Brian's hair, he forces him back in his seat with a hand against his chest, which Brian promptly seizes. Slowly, he licks the length of Justin's index finger, curling his tongue around it, flicking at the soft skin between his fingers, before loudly sucking it into his mouth.

"I asked him to help me paint." The hazel eyes are dark with desire, staring into his without blinking, and Justin swallows, trying to ignore the growing bulge in his pants.

Not taking his fingers out of Brian's mouth, he leans over to kiss the gleeful lips, playing with Brian's tongue as it continues to run over his fingers, before moving his mouth down to the hand around his wrist, licking each of Brian's fingers in turn.

"He didn't like it much," Justin says ruefully, a bit out of breath. "I felt so bad. He got as far as putting one paw in the paint, and then bounced and danced on three legs around the apartment, trying to get it off."

Nipping the tip of Brian's thumb, he smirks wickedly. "That's when he reminded me of you. When you drink Beam all night and stagger around the loft. He's not much better at handstands than you are, and he's even the perfect color. So I called him 'Beam.'"

His face falls.

"I'm going to miss him. He and Ethan never really…" He quickly cuts himself off, turning his head away.

Brian cups Justin's face in his hands, stroking the soft cheeks with his thumb.

"Justin." Brian waits until the troubled eyes meet his. "If you want him, you can have him. Provided, of course, that _he_ agrees," he adds sarcastically, hiding his… _not_ not-liking the cat.

A surprised look crosses Justin's face. "Ethan w-wouldn't care…" he stammers, and Brian quickly interjects.

"Not _him_. Beam."

Justin opens his mouth, but not knowing how to respond to a Brian so seemingly out of character, closes it again.

Brian gives a lopsided grin. Leaning in, he gently bites Justin's lower lip, waiting to be invited in before he answers the unspoken question with a slow, telling kiss… their language that he knows Justin still understands.

_"Yes, he can stay at the loft."_


	9. Chapter 9

"I have to." Justin's voice is adamant, and Brian rolls his lips inward, biting down on his frustration.

"Look, the meeting will be over at 3 pm. I'll bring you back then."

Justin shakes his head, and lays his hand against Brian's cheek. He is feeling dizzy and woozy from lack of sleep, and his temper is short, but he recognizes Brian isn't just trying to be difficult. He is worried, and after the way he found Justin, and knowing Brian's overprotective side, it is perfectly understandable.

But he _has_ to do this.

"Brian." The beautiful face leans into his palm, returning the pressure before locking their fingers. "I need to talk to him, and I need to do it now. I don't want to wait any longer."

Justin's eyes are blood-shot, and he may still be a bit shaky, but his voice is firm. Brian knows he is not going to win the argument, no matter how much he hates the thought of Justin alone in that shithole with Ewan.

It isn't that he doesn't trust Justin... He isn't going back to the fiddler... Brian is uneasy with the two of them being alone together after everything that happened the previous night.

However, he can't force Justin to take him along. Fuck, he can't even force him to let Brian bring him at a time Brian would be able to at least wait for him in the car. It has to be _now_, right after Justin has finished his exam, and now is when he has that fucking presentation he can't get out of, so Justin is going to have his way.

"Will you at least wait for me to pick you up?"

Justin squeezes the tense hand and shakes his head. Smiling he leans in to nibble Brian's throat one more time.

"I'll be fine. I'll see you back at the loft."

With a sigh, Brian capitulates. Roughly grabbing Justin by the nape of his neck, he pulls him back for a deep kiss. Chest heaving, resting their heads together, he stares into the blue eyes, making sure Justin gets the message. The full lips swing into a wide grin, and Justin gets out.

"Later."

"Later."

_Beam's PoV_

I'm back on top of the wardrobe before Justin's knock sounds through the apartment.

Ethan's face is as bruised as I had expected it to be, and he is in anything but a good mood.

"Oh, it's you." He doesn't wait for Justin to come in. Turning his back on his guest he positions himself in front of the window, staring out while his hands absently play with the violin bow he has been restringing.

"Ethan…"

"Save it."

"Look." Justin walks around the huffed musician and plants himself in front of Ethan. I proudly notice there is no shyness, no hesitation in his movements. Ian doesn't have a hold on him anymore. My blue-eyed boy is finally getting it.

He winces when he sees Ethan's face but keeps his distance.

"Does it hurt much?"

Ethan gives a bitter laugh.

"The pain on my wallet is worse." The glance he gives Justin is scalding. "Thanks to your _boyfriend_, I won't be able to play for at least a week."

"He is not…" Justin pushes his fingers through his hair in exasperation, and starts pacing the short length of the apartment.

"We've been over for a long time, you and I. It just…" With a frustrated sound he presses his palms against his eyes. The sympathetic look on his face has disappeared when he meets Ethan's glare. "We were happy, for a little while. But I was never enough for you. I know you've been seeing other guys, and I know it wasn't only once or twice either."

Ethan takes a step forward, stretching his hands towards Justin, who sidesteps him and moves out of his reach.

"Don't… Ethan, just don't. I'm not going to fight with you over this," Justin says, getting straight to the point. "Even though we weren't together anymore, Brian was always with me. I just didn't realize it until last night."

Ethan growls, opening his mouth to speak, but with a small motion of his hand Justin stops him.

"I don't give a flying fuck whether you believe me or not! 'Cause at least I _never_ fucked around on you!" Justin's voice rises with emotion, and he clenches his teeth, fists balled tight by his sides.

"Justin…" Ethan is quick to jump in. "Fuck, come on. You can't seriously tell me… Look how many times you forgave Brian!"

Justin's self control breaks, and tears stream down his cheeks.

"I _never_ forgave Brian. I never had to because he never promised me anything. _You_ did. All Brian ever told me was the truth, whereas…" He chokes, swallows hard, and says through tight jaws, "You were never in love with me. You just used me. I was a prize, a feather in your cap, a _fuck you_ to Brian Kinney. You got what he had, you proved you were hotter… sexier… better…" Justin rolls his eyes at the thought of Ethan _topping_ Brian in any way. "Whatever the fuck more than him! And once you had me, you… you…"

Proudly, I look down on Justin. Yes, he is crying, and I am not all that warm and fuzzy on the emotional circus some humans can subject themselves to, but this situation warrants it. Ethan is just standing there, seething, not even trying to defend himself. At least Justin cares enough to throw a tantrum.

He turns back, and in a low voice says, "It's over, Ethan. Your pride will just have to learn to accept that."

Without a further glance at the fiddler, he turns to leave, fleetingly lifting an eyebrow at me when he passes the wardrobe. I tilt my head and get up.

I am more than ready to move into my new accommodations, and looking forward to finding out what other pleasures Brian has for me in that wardrobe of his.

The jar of the elevator startles Brian, and slowly he gets in. A part of him wants to scream, tell the fucking thing to hurry the fuck up. Another part wants it to never move, and if it has to, not go up to the loft, to Justin.

In spite of what Justin said... in spite of what he was so sure of himself the previous night... fact remains, Justin left him for a reason. A couple of midnight whispered words didn't, _couldn't_ change that... not if you have a history famously based on not being interested in discussing "feelings". Or _shit_, what you keep telling yourself is a non-relationship, but meanwhile you want him to stay even more than he said he wanted to.

Justin went to see Ian, and Brian doesn't doubt the chapter on his romance with the violinist-wannabe is closed, but it doesn't mean Justin is just going to fall into his ex-partner's arms.

The elevator comes to a stop, and with a resigned sigh Brian gets out. Fuck knows what waits on the other side of the door.

The thought triggers a sense of déjà vu, and he frowns, reluctantly remembering the last time he felt this apprehensive. It was after the bowling competition (which they lost to a bunch of fucking breeders!). He was waiting for Justin to come home, but expecting he wouldn't, knowing he'd rather be with Ewan, and telling himself it didn't matter that he wasn't who Justin wanted.

_"You sure are taking a lot of showers lately…"_

Forcing the memory and accompanying stab of loss from his mind, he pulls the heavy steel door open, calling out Justin's name.

The loft is silent, and a chill of despair steals a beat from his heart.

"Justin!" His voice is louder this time, struggling past the anxiousness curling tight fingers around his throat.

No answer.

He squeezes his eyes shut, struggling for air through half-parted lips. Slumping with his head thrown back against the door, he waits for the disappointment to dissipate from his chest and allow the oxygen to flow. His coat slips from numb fingers, followed by his briefcase hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

What the fuck else did he expect? Why the fuck would Justin want him back? Brian has changed, near as the admission comes to killing him, but he hasn't proved it to Justin yet. Justin has no reason to give him another chance. It's too late. He never should have let him leave all those months ago. He never should have allowed his fucking pride to wire his jaws shut, refusing the words…

"Brian?" Wearing only his briefs, Justin walks down the stairs from the bedroom. He knuckles sleep-swollen eyes and yawns, beaming when he spots Brian.

Brian doesn't move, and Justin's smile wavers.

"What's wrong?" Grabbing Brian by the arm, he drags the limp form into the loft. Brian blinks, the unsettled face in front of him slowly registering.

"You're here."

"Of course I am. Where else would I be?" Justin asks, his concern growing at an alarming rate.

With a muffled curse, Brian yanks Justin into his arms. Not trying to hide his relief, he drops his forehead on Justin's shoulder, his fingers digging frantically into the small of Justin's back.

Fuck, why does it have to matter so much whether Justin is his or not?

_Admit the truth. You love him, don't you?_

Debbie's words from so long ago knock his feet from under him, like they did the night in Woody's when she confronted him.

_No. Fuck, yes… No, can't…_

Almost clinging to Justin, he inhales deeply, forcing the panic down by focusing instead on the feel of the warm skin under his palms.

Comprehension dawns bit by bit, turning worry into sadness as Justin holds the agitated figure. Still? After everything that happened last night, that they said to each other? Brian _still_ expected him to…?

Reaching up, he knots his fingers in the dark hair, leaning his head against Brian's temple. Fuck, and here he was thinking _he_ was the one needing to hear...

Justin wriggles in the smothering embrace, swallowing continuously to keep the tears at bay. Quaking, breathing Brian's name over and over again.

He doesn't know what else to do, having only ever seen glimpses of Brian like this. Usually, it was gone again so quickly, he wondered whether it was just his imagination wishing for Brian to seek comfort… be fragile… vulnerable… _need him…_

Brian is always honest, but only honest in sharing what he has already admitted to himself. Refusing to acknowledge he cared for Justin kept him from acknowledging _them_, and kept Justin at a calculated distance.

But last night… _fuck_… He is still not sure last night wasn't just a dream.

_Stay..._ Brian's body spooned with his, the beautiful mouth flirting in his neck… _Stay_… One word, barely loud enough to stir the air over his skin, and yet it assaulted his ears. One word offering so many answers. Justin didn't need to turn around to know the hazel eyes were downcast, Brian's lips rolled behind his teeth, making him look like…. like a cat bringing home a mouse, in want of praise and adoration, but also doubtful whether his gift will be accepted. Justin knows... Beam's done it often enough.

Justin soothingly kneads the tense neck muscles, aching to protect Brian, as Brian has always protected him. To make whatever is upsetting him so much go away and never return again.

It feels strange to finally be allowed to take care of Brian, even if he realizes it's only for a moment. In many ways, he has always been the stronger one. Brian just didn't want to accept it and permit Justin to also look after him, to be his equal, to truly be his partner.

Until now.

Brian stirs, and Justin relinquishes control immediately.

"All right?" Brian murmurs against Justin's throat, tasting him, convincing himself the small body in his arms is real. Justin has been waiting for him to come home. He didn't leave. In fact, it looks like he doesn't want to.

If he doesn't fuck up again, Justin might actually agree to stay. Provided, of course… Inwardly, he groans, knowing full well Justin will want to pick up where they left off last night, and not just on the kissing. Fuck, that was hot. It had taken all of Brian's self-control to not fuck Justin right then. The desire to move inside him, claiming the familiar ass was overwhelming. Instead, he simply held him. Held _onto _him, truth be told.

Christ, he is so tired of sleeping alone.

_Whatever it takes…_

Trailing wet kisses down to Justin's collarbone, Brian struggles to find his balance the only way he knows how. Justin's body is slightly damp from having cuddled up under the duvet all afternoon, and Brian's arms tighten hungrily, reminded of hot, sweaty nights.

_Oh, God, I've missed him…_

Shoving a knee between Justin's legs, he forcefully pulls him closer, causing Justin's cock to instantly wake up within its cotton confinements.

"Yes," Justin answers with an ardent moan as Brian grips his hips, hard enough that he knows it will leave finger marks.

Fingers marking him... Brian marking him… He has no problem with that.

"Everything's fine," he exhales blissfully, nudging Brian's nose. "I'm okay." He rests his forehead on Brian's, savoring the aroma of tobacco and aftershave, and his associated intimacy with loving Brian.

"You spoke to him?" Brian studies the pale face, his racing heart calming down somewhat. Justin still looks tired and is too light in his arms, but the blue eyes are sparkling happily, only outshined in radiance by _that _smile.

"Yeah." Brushing fingertips over knotted jaws, Justin responds to the unspoken need for reassurance. "Everything's fine," he repeats, lightly sweeping his thumb over Brian's lips. Gradually, he feels the rigid body fold into him. Warmth embraces his finger fleetingly, and then Brian's tongue is gone again, stealing his breath and quickening it at the same time. Cupping Brian's face, he gently strokes his cheek, not wavering before the haunted stare.

"All right." Brian's tongue ghosts over Justin's lips, making it clear in his own language he is willing to discuss _them_. He starts to speak, seems to change his mind, and snaps his mouth shut. Justin places small kisses down the side of his face, silently willing him to go on.

Brian remains silent. In spite of his resolution to do whatever the fuck it takes to reunite with his partner, he knows it's going to involve a lot of talking. The mere thought of crossing into the new territory makes him decidedly ill at ease.

But in all fairness, he can't blame Justin. For years he has put up with Brian's shit, content with what little he was allowed to have. He went out of his way to indulge Brian, to learn his language, to understand it, to speak it. Brian hasn't done much to return the favor, adamantly refusing to change his ways for something he knew wouldn't, _couldn't_ last. For someone he knew wouldn't stay.

Still, having this brilliant insight doesn't make things any easier. Thirty-one years is a lot of selfishness and too much stubbornness to change within 24 hours. He made his choice quite some time ago, but the true testing of his resolve only started last night, and he is already exhausted.

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. Better then to get it over with and write the epilogue on the fucking fiddler.

"You will never play violin music in my presence again?" Brian's words are only a shift of hot air behind his ear, but Justin feels the tremble behind them. He knows Brian is reluctantly continuing what he himself started last night.

_Stay, but never… again… _Justin loses the battle, and scalding tears mingle with spit and tongues, trickling over his lips onto Brian's.

"I'm so fucking sorry," he attempts in a stifled voice, fully realizing how much the single sentence has cost Brian, and understanding the hidden admission behind it.

Of course, not to imply Brian is jealous of Ethan, or insecure about Justin being with anyone again for anything but a quick fuck, because Brian Kinney doesn't do jealousy.

"Sorry is bullshit," Brian firmly interrupts him, sucking at the wet mouth. He drags his nails across Justin's back, encircling the slim waist and hips possessively before plunging a hand into the back of his briefs. He can feel Justin's hard-on pressing insistently against his groin, and in response runs teasing fingers deep into his crack.

"Fuck, I want you." Justin widens his stance, clenching his arms around Brian with a needy groan.

"How much?"

Brian smirks, thoroughly enjoying Justin's wantonness. He traces the puffy lips with the tip of his tongue, the hand clasped around the back of the blond head not allowing Justin to move any closer. Burying his face in the crook of Justin's neck, he inhales audibly. Jesus, he'd forgotten how good Justin smells, even without the scent of being freshly fucked oozing from his pores. He smells best, though, when covered with their come and sweat, and Brian plans to add those heady fragrances to the mixture very shortly. Add them a couple of times, in fact.

"How much?" he repeats huskily, nipping small red marks along Justin's throat.

Justin leans back in their embrace, his blue eyes suddenly serious. "More than I've ever wanted anyone in my life. More than I wanted you on our first night."

Brian stares at him, for once without a ready retort. It isn't quite the answer he expected.

Justin chuckles at the flabbergasted expression on Brian's face. Planting a handful of kisses along Brian's jawline to his ear, he whispers seductively, "That enough to get me well and truly fucked?"

Brian gives up all pretense, and crushes Justin's mouth to his, desire sparking across their lips. Not waiting for Justin to recover from the swift onslaught, he roughly pushes inside. Grunting Justin's name, he lifts the light body, and with Justin's feet barely touching the floor, he drags him towards the closest steel beam. A willing Justin goes slack against him, allowing Brian to force his arms above his head. Brian interlocks their fingers, pressing them palm to palm.

Justin shivers, goosebumps following the warmth spiraling from his groin. It drives him insane with lust when Brian gets this passionate, like he did when…

_Oh, Jesus…_

Images from that night spill over him... of Brian like a man possessed, ramming Justin up against the steel beam, forcing his hands above his head…

_"I like smelling you, not soap."_

Everywhere Brian touched him burned… It was like Brian was branding him for everyone to see, declaring Justin was his…

Justin fights back tears and the raw emotions stirred up by the memories of one of the most miserable nights of his life.

_"Go take a shower. You stink."_

An anxious whimper escapes Justin's throat as the words echo in his head, over and over again. Embarrassed he clenches at Brian's hands, painfully trapping their fingers. Rising up on tip-toes he kisses Brian feverishly in an effort to melt the icicles rapidly forming on his nerve endings. It's not happening again, and it's not _going_ to happen again. This is Brian, _his _Brian. Brian who wants him, cares for him… He wouldn't…

_Brian got up, and left… Brian had never rejected him before…_

Brian doesn't notice Justin's distress, since he assumes his reactions as part of their normal play. He's rock hard, aching for release, aching to bury himself in Justin's wet heat. Spurred on by the enthusiastic response, he grinds them together, noises of want flowing from him in an incoherent stream.

"Brian," Justin pleads thickly. He desperately needs Brian to reassure him, show him, tell him, to do _anything_. Anything will be better than reliving one of their less than finer moments when they are in the middle of getting back together. "Please."

Brian's brow furrows when the plaintive voice finally registers. He pulls Justin flush against him, concern evident in his gentle caressing of the tense mouth as he nudges Justin's nose with his.

"You okay?"

For a moment, Justin considers telling him, but hating to dredge up yet another unsavory part of their past, he shakes his head with a weak smile. Fuck knows they've had an overdose of reminiscing already.

"I need you," he says instead, his voice sounding thin in his ears.

Brian's eyebrows shoot up in question, and Justin kisses him hard, reiterating his request more clearly.

"I need you to fuck me," he whispers, his hand stroking the side of Brian's face, his knees going weak at the unguarded eyes searching his.

Brian isn't satisfied with his answer, but decides to indulge Justin and leave the talking for later. If Justin wants to fuck first, shit yes, he's happy to oblige.

"Turn around."


	10. Chapter 10

Justin does as he is told and grips the beam tightly. He knows he is shortly going to need the support, and excitement replaces some of the fear. The steel burns cold against his chest, and involuntarily he jerks back, into a firm hand forcing him against the beam again.

"Brian!" he cries with a sharp intake of breath.

Brian strips in record time and grabs a handful of hair to twist Justin's head around. The blue stare meets his with wide-eyed surprise, and recognition knots Brian's stomach. Justin had the same look _that_ night when he struggled against Brian, trying to break free from him because he wanted to _shower_ first.

Hurt and confusion had fused with need and desire. The beautiful mouth set with half-hearted determination that evaporated immediately at Brian's deliberate touch to his temple. He'd known exactly where Justin's weaknesses lay and how to break through all his defenses. _Wide-eyed_… the blue eyes told him plenty, told him everything he already knew and everything he didn't want to know. Justin was sure as fuck going to leave him for Ian... in a way he had already... and yet Brian still refused to acknowledge that it mattered. It fucking mattered a _lot. That_ revelation only kicked his ass minutes later when he stared down at his partner… _ex_-partner pinned underneath him.

Brian kisses the wide-open mouth roughly, forcing touch and taste to blur with stark images, to seep into his consciousness and rewrite the memories. _This_ is real. This is what matters. Justin, his, bucking against him, a fine sheen of sweat amplifying the smell of need and desire over hurt and confusion.

Strong hands race over his hips, and Justin hisses as the ambient air hugs the heat springing free from between his legs, drying his cock. Clinging to the steel beam, he slumps, tilts his ass towards Brian, and spreads his legs.

Brian's dick swells, and with shaky knees he covers Justin's offered body with his own. Blond hair tickles his nose, and Brian smiles as he buries his face deeper, slowly inhaling the familiar scent of his shampoo. It clearly hasn't taken Justin long to pick up Brian's expensive taste again, and he loves it. Loves Justin smelling like _his _again. He nips at the sinewy muscles at the nape of Justin's neck, before trailing a wet tongue between the thin shoulders.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he brushes against Justin's skin. His fingertips wander down the wet path, getting reacquainted with the outline of Justin's spine, recognizing with a stab to his gut the impatient flex in his back under the pressure of Brian's touch.

Ordering Justin to suck, he pushes three fingers between the full lips. Justin complies greedily, his cheeks hollowing as he pulls Brian's fingers inside, swirling his tongue around, under, over and in between them.

Brian sinks his teeth into Justin's shoulder, his hands skilfully finding their way down Justin's lower back. Hastily, he thumbs the curves of Justin's ass apart for easier access. God, he's wanted, _needed _this for what feels like forever. To be inside Justin… buried deep… crashing Justin to him as they climax together.

One saliva-coated finger slips past the tense ring of muscle, and Justin shudders, arching with a cry as the fire in his ass sears through him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he focuses on Brian inside him, and tries to relax when the familiar finger slides in and out, slowly coaxing him to let it in.

"Fuck!" Justin growls when Brian abruptly pushes hard, ignoring the resistance of Justin's body.

"Is this what you want?" Brian nuzzles behind Justin's ear in a low voice. The sensation of Justin clenching as a second finger curls alongside the first is overwhelming, and Brian feels his pre-cum trickle down his cock.

"No!" Justin snarls. "I want you to fuck me. I want your dick up my ass, not your fucking fingers!"

He is caught by surprise when Brian yanks him away from the beam, causing him to land flat on his back on the hardwood floor. Brian's lips bruise his... warm tongue drags down his jawline, down his throat, over his chest... until the greedy mouth closes over a nipple. Sucking and biting at the small bud, Brian moves a hand between Justin's wide-spread thighs. Spurred on by Justin's nails scraping lanes of fire down his back, he closes his fist around Justin's balls and skims his knuckles over the sensitive spot behind them.

Brooding hazel eyes hold Justin's with an almost animalistic intensity as Brian rises on all fours to watch pleasure and pain play across the young face beneath him. "I am going to fuck you… again… and again…" He bites at the hollow of Justin's throat, marking him. "Because you're _mine_. You're fucking _mine_."

Brian's voice is thick, something akin to menace and threat underlying the raw possessiveness, and immediately the old fear scampers down Justin's spine in icy streaks. Reaching up, he clenches his hands in Brian's hair and wrenches Brian's mouth to his. Fuck if ghosts are going to ruin this for him… He shoves his tongue against Brian's, his limbs going weak when Brian wrestles back, fighting to explore Justin's mouth, sharing its heat, and spreading warmth throughout Justin's body. Justin goes limp, his mouth and lips and tongue the only parts of him able to respond, which they do fervently. Brian has always had command over his body… the power to kiss him until his knees give way and his insides turn into a quivering mass screaming _never enough_…

"Do it," he pleads with a gasp. His neck muscles strain as he lifts his mouth in invitation to take more of Brian.

Brian pulls back, the sudden urgent tone making him unsure. "Look at me."

Justin's eyes flutter open. "Jesus, I want you inside." Justin's fist clutches at the front of Brian's shirt, trying to pull him back down, but Brian resists and locks his elbows. Glazed-over blue eyes frown up at him, edge into him, filling his mind and making his senses swim until he isn't aware of anything else except the feel and smell and taste of Justin, skin against skin, slender fingers digging into his upper arms.

_You made my world stand still  
>And in that stillness<br>There was a freedom  
>I never felt before<em>

"Christ, I can't do this!"

Brian jumps up, and Justin feels the blood drain from his face. Needles and pins sting through his body as every muscle goes limp in shock. Unable to move, he remains motionless, blinking at Brian in absolute panic.

Brian cocks a questioning eyebrow and extends his hand to help Justin up. "Aren't you coming?" He starts to smile at the intended pun, and then watches in bewilderment as Justin curls into a tight little ball, sobs racking through him.

"What the fuck? Justin? Fuck… what's wrong?" Kneeling next to Justin, he grimaces. Fucking floor… and suddenly it dawns on him. "Shit… I didn't… It's not… Fuck! Justin, look at me." Closing his hand firmly around the tucked away chin, he forces the streaming blue eyes to meet his, feeling like crying himself. "I meant the floor. It's uncomfortable, and besides, I don't want to fuck you like this."

Justin yanks his head from Brian's grasp and, if anything, cries harder. Cursing, Brian wraps his arms around the light body, and carries him to the bedroom. Sinking down on the bed, he pulls Justin to his chest and grits his teeth as he holds him, hating himself and resenting the helplessness washing over him.

"Shit. Justin, please..." Unable to find the words to stop the increasing wetness against his chest, he clasps a hand around the back of Justin's head and rests his lips against the faint scar on the pale temple in silent supplication.

It takes a while for Justin to calm down somewhat, hiccuping with dry sobs every now and again.

"I didn't mean-"

"I know," Justin interrupts Brian with a quick shake of his head. "It's just… seeing you suddenly jump up like that…"

He shivers and presses closer into Brian's arms. Brian winces, not trusting his voice. His lips drop to Justin's shoulder as he tucks the blond head deeper under his chin.

"I thought, that night after your bowling match, that everything was okay. You wanted me, you wanted me home, wanted me to stay…" Justin takes a shaky breath, willing air into his lungs. The rock in his chest doesn't move.

"I did," Brian whispers. "But I didn't know it, until… fuck, thinking about you, being with _him_..."

Justin disentangles himself from Brian's iron grip. Confused, he searches Brian's face, anger stirring in his veins.

"Was that _it_? You got upset about me fucking Ethan? It _bothered_ you? It fucking _actually_ bothered you? Why the fuck didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell-" Catching himself, he buries his face in his hands. They're back at _this_ again. "No, _don't _tell me, I can just guess." His annoyance slowly evaporates, and drained he slumps against Brian.

"He was giving you more than I would," Brian says quietly, and Justin's heart aches at the barely concealed pain behind the words. "It was better for you to be with him."

Justin bites his lip, unaware of his nails digging half-moons into his palms. He can't take much more of this. From their very first night, he had believed Brian loved him... or, if he didn't, that eventually he would. They were meant to be together, even though everyone told him for years it was impossible, that Brian would never change. Brian Kinney didn't believe in love and was just fucking around with a convenient sex arrangement. Justin deserved so much more than the little Brian was begrudgingly giving him. And he fell for it. Ignored his heart begging him to hold on, to not throw away what he knew was true... to believe, to trust, to have patience.

However, it should not have been left up to Justin to draw his own conclusions from Brian's actions. Or the lack of them. Brian should not have let him walk away without telling him the truth, at least as much as he had admitted to himself at the time.

But Brian stubbornly stuck to what he made himself believe was true. He never intended to fight for Justin, because he loved him enough to want him to be happy, and he was convinced Justin's happiness didn't lie with him.

No one knows as well as Justin does that it's what Brian _doesn't_ say that truly matters. Brian tried to tell him in so much more than words, but the more he tried, the more Justin _wanted_ the words. Not that he thinks Brian was even aware of what he was 'saying' when he bought him the computer, paid his school fees... spending long nights fucking, talking, him wrapped around Brian like no trick was ever allowed to do, Brian offering him comfort and safety within his arms.

"No, it wasn't," Justin argues heatedly. "He never gave me what you did. He never cared enough to… to push me off a fucking cliff because he thought it was in my best interest... _Christ_… that is so fucked up!"

Exasperated, Justin rubs his eyes.

"Do you remember the afternoon I went shopping with my mom, and we arrived at the loft just after you fucked some guy?" he asks, clutching Brian's hand while trying to breathe past the pieces of his heart piercing his lungs.

Brian thinks for a moment, before a slow smile lights up his face.

"When you left me to entertain Jennifer while you went hunting for souvenirs in the bedroom?"

Relief at seeing Brian grin bubbles up inside him and Justin giggles. "And I found it. Leaving his shorts behind like that… You must have kicked him out real quick for him to not even get dressed properly."

Brian's smile widens. "I was rather glad when you walked in."

Justin tips Brian's chin towards him, no traces of mirth in his eyes. "You were more than glad, you were _happy_. I closed the door behind my mom, and I jumped into your arms, and you caught me, and laughed and held me, and we fucked…" He swallows, heat flooding his body at the vivid recall of straddling Brian on the couch and riding him.

"You wanted to know what I did with him," Brian says with a short chuckle.

"There wasn't much to show. It was pretty boring. We had much more fun _after_ we had re-enacted the two of you."

Brian doesn't answer. Instead, he leans in and kisses Justin deep, his hand trailing down to play with the soft curls between Justin's legs. Justin goes hard instantly, but breaks away.

They have to finish this. Now.

"Why were you happy?" he asks cautiously, running his thumb across Brian's mouth. Goosebumps skitter down his spine when Brian nibbles at the tip, before sucking it into his mouth. Justin can see he's mulling over the question, and waits in silence.

"Because you didn't want us kissing other people," Brian says slowly, clearly taken aback by his own words.

Justin's stomach does somersaults. Even though he was expecting… make that _hoping _for something similar, it still shocks him to the core to actually hear Brian admit it.

For a moment, he considers dropping the subject, to quit while he's ahead. Because _fuck_…

He clears his throat, not looking at Brian as he concentrates on weaving their fingers together. "And then I kissed that college guy," he murmurs ruefully. Brian remains quiet, and Justin looks up, his eyes swimming again. "But you never broke any of our agreements."

Brian's brow furrows. "How do you know?"

"Because you said you wouldn't." Justin rolls away, his back towards Brian. "Jesus, I fucked up…"

At once, Brian moves closer and spoons behind him. He runs his hand over Justin's side… his waist… flattening his palms over the slender hips. Justin shivers against him and his pulse quickens.

Biting Justin's neck, he inhales deeply. Still missing the smell of sex… and sweat. He thrusts against Justin's lower back, his need leaving wet streaks on the soft skin.

Justin reaches behind his head and pulls Brian's mouth to his. Brian's hand slips between his thighs, cupping his balls, running his fingers along the base of his shaft before closing his grip around Justin's hard-on.

"Christ, I need to fuck you," he growls, hot against Justin's neck. Kissing him hungrily, Brian kneads his knuckles down the perfect ass, pressing one leg forward like he has so many times before. His hand dips into the crevice between Justin's cheeks, and with a hard rhythm, rubs a fingertip over the tense muscles guarding his hole.

"Fuck, Brian." Justin's breath hitches and he writhes against Brian's hand. He needs to feel Brian inside him… on him… around him… incinerating his longing and pain in blazing hazel eyes.

"Tell me what you want." Brian's voice stroking over his ear is husky.

"Don't… don't go slow… _uuhhh… fuck_… missed you too much… please…"

Brian goes very still, helpless to stop the fire from melting his insides and burning away the last of his rationality. There's the pleading voice he knows so intimately... begging... not asking to stop, like he did at Ian's.

"Ask again," Brian mumbles. He is enjoying Justin's obvious desperation, but shivering in his own effort to hold back on the… _fuck… feelings_ rising in his chest. Tension stiffens his fingers and a digit penetrates Justin, clutching inside, trying to have more, wanting them to be closer. He _needs_ to remember again the toe-curling, mind-blowing connection he has with Justin only. _They_ need it… They both need new memories. The white heat in his stomach flares at the feel of Justin's ass closing around his finger, and a deep moan rises in his throat as his balls tighten.

"Fuck!" Brian grits through a clenched jaw as Justin relaxes, allowing him to add a finger to the first. Justin pushes back on his hand, lifting and bending his leg. It has always been one of Brian's favorite positions. If Brian Kinney ever did foreplay (which he doesn't!), this would be it. It is so hot, molded around each other, Justin on his side, Brian behind him... holding him, preparing him, watching Justin squirm impatiently... Not long now, then he'll flip him over…

"Condom."

Brian doesn't remove his fingers when Justin reaches for the nightstand, grabbing a foil packet and lube. He waits for Justin to lean back against him, and when he does, Brian slides the third finger in.

Justin's breath explodes in a loud cry and he arches, involuntarily trying to get away from the burn.

Brian pushes down on Justin's shoulder and forces him to turn on his back. Straddling Justin, he rests his forearms on either side of the wincing face and combs his fingers soothingly through the flaxen hair… that smells of expensive shampoo… smells like _his_...

For a moment, Justin's mouth is unresponsive under his, but then palms run down Brian's sides, sure and hard and confident. The nip to his lower lip is eager and Justin's tongue without hesitation when Brian carefully brushes his over the swollen lips. Taking Justin up on his silent offer, he pushes inside, his body tense in anticipation. Christ, he will never get tired of kissing the beautiful mouth… of Justin nudging his nose as he traces the outline of Brian's lips before sinking into him… opening up, asking Brian wordlessly, in _their_ language, to tongue fuck him. To _fuck _him…

Not breaking their kiss, Justin sheathes Brian, and flipping the top of the tube, squeezes a generous dollop of lube into Brian's hand. Moments later, Brian's fingers are inside him again, slowly working deeper, every now and again bumping over his prostate.

Panting, resting his forehead on Justin's chest, Brian concentrates on the feel of Justin around his fingers, the slippery tunnel making room for him.

Justin is still tighter than he would like him to be, but he is throbbing, and waiting any longer for what has already been denied him for too long is driving him crazy. He must… _has_ to…

Spreading Justin's legs with hurried hands, he kneels down between them, pulling Justin up as he grinds their cocks together, thrusting, Brian's body needing release as much as he does.

Justin clutches his legs around Brian's waist and Brian sits back, taking Justin with him. Palming himself, he pushes against Justin's hole, watching his partner's face. The resistance to him entering Justin is more than he expected, and he buries himself with grunting effort. That's another thing he will never get used to... how the circle of muscle pushes back against him, fighting him before suddenly allowing him entrance. The shock of straining to get inside and abruptly being enveloped by Justin is so hot, it alone can make him come.

Justin cries out, and Brian stops moving. The puffy lips are red, hidden under Justin's teeth biting down. His eyes are closed, his face twisted in pain, and Brian worriedly leans forward.

"Justin?"

Justin tries to give a reassuring laugh and pulls Brian's mouth to his for a wild kiss. "Don't stop, for fuck's sake, please don't stop…" He pushes his hips higher, wincing as he does so but not backing down.

"Shit, I don't want to hurt you. You're so tight, I can't…" Brian frowns, suddenly realizing what he said. Stroking the sides of Justin's face, he kisses him gently until he feels Justin's legs relax around his waist. "Didn't you…?"

Justin shakes his head slightly. "I never let him fuck me."

Brian stares at him in surprise. It's been months, and Justin, although he can be a very aggressive top, enjoys bottoming. He needs to be penetrated, filled.

"You mean…"

"Yeah." Justin yanks him back for another breathless kiss. "You were the last one inside me."

"Holy fuck," Brian mutters. He slumps and lies still, careful not to move his torso. He is so turned on right now, he's afraid he'll explode if he breathes too hard.

"Brian?" Justin asks, cautiously biting his earlobe, then sucking it. He is unsure what to make of Brian's reaction.

"Fuck, Justin." Brian's body is rigid with concern. "I don't want to hurt you. Just… keep still."

Justin sighs in relief, and taking Brian's hand, he folds their palms together around his cock, pushing Brian's thumb over the head on the upstroke.

"You won't," he says, with a bite to Brian's chin and a small noise of pleasure that Brian's cock recognizes immediately. Brian's breath escapes in a tortured hiss, and Justin turns the bowed head until dark eyes meet his. So fucking beautiful… so very vulnerable… fragile… Justin's heart stops, kicks against his ribs, and rushes in his ears all at once. "I want you to fuck me. Make me…" His tone drops, the words barely audible as he cups Brian's cheek and sweeps his lips over the resolute mouth. "Make me yours again."

The break in Justin's husky voice is more than Brian can take, and with a cry, his self-control breaks. He pushes deep, pulling out almost all the way before he thrusts into Justin again. He watches Justin closely, but he seems to be doing okay, and Brian speeds up, Justin meeting his every movement in perfect synchronization.

"Fuck," Brian bites through straining jaws. "Fuckfuckfuck…" He kisses Justin hard. "God, I missed you."

A whimper escapes Justin's throat.

"Don't come yet," Brian warns, closing his grip on Justin to slow him down. "Wait for me," he commands against the panting mouth.

Closing his eyes, he cuts off from everything around him... everything but Justin's sweaty body sliding under his, the feel of Justin's ass gripping him almost painfully, nails in his thighs urging him on.

Not losing his rhythm, he spreads Justin wider, and Justin gasps loudly as Brian hits his prostate with purpose, again and again. He arches, the beginning of his orgasm flashing in white streaks behind his eyes. "Can't-"

With one final thrust, Brian loses himself deep inside Justin, his strokes on Justin's dick firm and fast.

Crying Brian's name, Justin lets go, and his body convulses violently as he shoots hot and sticky over Brian's hand. Crushing Justin to him, Brian comes hard, still shuddering for a good while after the waves of pleasure have subsided.

Tangled limbs… bodies glued together… _the smell of sex_… the smell of _them_… Brian's arms tighten around Justin, his breathing unsteady from more than just trying to recuperate from the best fuck he's had in months. Justin is back… _home_… under him and around him and beside him and all of him is Brian's… and his _only_.

"That was fucking intense," Justin says with difficulty, and grimaces when Brian pulls out carefully.

"Shit, I didn't want to hurt you." Brian brushes the sweat-soaked strands away from Justin's forehead. Blue eyes open and shine up at him, and Brian feels the sunshine smile stretch wide against his mouth.

"You didn't," Justin sighs contentedly, his arms encircling Brian's neck as he presses his head to the muscled shoulder.

Brian pulls Justin onto his chest and slowly explores the lines of Justin's thighs and waist under his fingertips while he waits for Justin to fall asleep, which he inevitably always did after being well and truly fucked by Brian. He is therefore caught by surprise at the small voice.

"How did you know?" Justin asks, not really wanting to drag the subject up again, but not able to consider it closed either.

"Know what?"

"That…" _Fuck_… "…that I kissed him."

Brian takes a long time before answering, and Justin has given up on getting a reaction when he says quietly, "I know what you taste like."

Justin freezes. "I won't…"

Brian quickly smothers the words with a kiss. "Don't."

"Why?"

Justin's confusion is evident, and Brian pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn't want to do this anymore. It's exhausting. Why can't it be enough to just be like this?… _Anything… I'll do anything…_

"I can't give you any promises, and I don't want any from you."

He feels the small body tense in his arms and strengthens his hold as he takes a deep breath.

_No matter what they'd say  
>I would have thought I'd be with you<br>Until my dying day_

"Just stay with me."

Justin's eyes fly to Brian's, welling up anew at the 'I brought you a mouse' look.

"I _knew_ you gave a shit," he giggles through his tears, deliriously happy. Because Brian _does_, and Justin has known all along that Brian loves him. He didn't show it in the conventional way, and he will never say it out loud, but oh holy fuck… when it comes to kissing, Brian _never_ stops talking... and Justin is listening, finally.

_*Lyrics from "Plenty" by Sarah McLachlan, S219 during credits run_


	11. Chapter 11

_Justin's PoV_

I didn't tell Brian I was going back…_ again_. I forgot one of my brushes. It's my favorite and most expensive, actually one that Brian bought me, and I am not about to just leave it behind.

Brian came with me to the apartment yesterday when we collected my things, watching as I stood in the middle of the room, closing a chapter in my life that… I guess, had to have happened. Even though it nearly killed both of us, I had to get away from Brian, and he had to get away from me.

He needed something to kick him into the realization that there was, in fact, an "us," and that he wouldn't mind if we were an "us" again.

As for me and Ethan... I learned the hard way talk is fucking cheap, and promises easily made are even more easily broken. Romance isn't bullshit. Not all of it is advertising schemes to get people to spend their money. But it isn't roses and candlelight and a violinist with soft hands.

Romance is Brian. Small things, every day.

I look up at the building that, in more than three months, has never been home to me. Soft movement around my ankles catches my attention, and I bend down, scratching behind alert ears.

"Beam, you're up for this?" He bumps his forehead against my hand, following it with the rest of his body slinking around me, and I laugh.

I am unsure whether Ethan is home. At this time of day, he shouldn't be.

The door is ajar, and I frown. It isn't like Ethan to leave the door unlocked, never mind open. I hear movement inside, and I freeze for a moment. I really don't feel like having another confrontation. But this should be the last time, and I am sure as fuck not going to leave just to have to come back _again_.

"Ethan?"

Pushing the door open, I walk into silence, and my frown deepens, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.

"Ethan…?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

I whirl around, sucking my breath in fright as the gruff voice startles me. He is big, more broad-shouldered than Brian... taller, too.

"I'm… Who the fuck are _you_?" He sure as hell doesn't look like Ethan's type. His features are heavyset. I'd guess he is a football player, or a… My eyes travel down to his hands, and for the first time, I notice the baseball bat he is leaning on.

Fear hitches in my chest, and my confusion increases.

"What are you doing here? Who are you?" I cringe at the high pitched tone of my voice, and he sneers as he takes a step closer, backing me up towards the bed.

The bat tap-taps on the floor, swaying erratically in the restless claw of a hand. My eyes dart behind him to the front door, hoping I can make a dash for it, but he is too big, and I won't be able to make it past him. He is in the middle of my escape route. Sweeping the rest of the apartment, looking for other options, I notice the state it is in. Broken furniture… smashed glass… clothes spilled…

"Where is this _Ethan_?" Another step closer. I feel the bed press against the back of my calves.

"I… I don't know…"

"Ya don't know, do ya? What, you think I'm stupid? You probably slept with her, too!"

_Slept… her… What the fuck?_

"Excuse me?" Incredulous, I sit down. "Slept with who?"

"Don't play the fucking innocent with me!" I cringe at the destruction the bat leaves in its wake as he moves through the apartment in a frenzy. Not that there is much left to still break. "I know she's been with him! I've seen them!"

"You've seen Ethan with… But Ethan's gay!"

"What?"

Involuntarily, my hands come up in front of my face. I know it's a completely futile reaction, and there is nothing I can do against a swinging bat (don't I _fucking_ know it), but I don't have anything else I can defend myself with.

"You mean she got knocked up… by a fucking fairy? He give her AIDS, too?"

"Ethan doesn't have… Knocked up?" I gasp. "You mean she's… she's… pregnant? He…"

His eyes narrow at me. "Why does that upset you so much?"

I swear, I can see his irises go red as the hatred grows in him. "You're one of _them_! A fucking faggot! Ethan's little boyfriend? His AIDS fuck-buddy?"

_Shit…_

"No! I'm not…" But he isn't listening to me anymore. I see the bat come towards me, but I'm powerless to stop it. Again

I hear a scream before everything goes black.

_Beam's PoV_

My claws are extended before I find purchase on his shoulder, and I dig deep, sliding down his back and feeling how they furrow into his skin through the T-shirt. I snarl and hiss and spit my satisfaction.

An unearthly noise assaults my eardrums, and the piece of wood he had been swinging at Justin flies across the room. He is out of the door before it hits the ground.

My heart stops beating.

Justin lies sprawled on the bed, not moving, a small puddle of blood forming under the left side of his head, dripping from his temple.

I run.

_Beam's PoV_

I start yelling for Brian the moment I enter the staircase to the loft. I have never, ever, _ever _in my life moved so fast, taken so many flying leaps, jumped so high, skirted so many feet and wheels and hands. It felt like time had stopped, everything around me moving in slow motion.

Fuck, I hope time stopped… If I… if Brian… if we're too late…

The loft door is open when I throw myself around the last corner, Brian waiting with a scowl. He starts complaining the moment he sees me, but I cut him off, tell him about Justin having walked in on the aggravated boyfriend of one of Ethan's _romances_, and… and… _oh, fuck_…

Fuck if I don't start howling.

He gets it on the second telling.

I didn't know it was possible for someone to go so pale, so quickly, so utterly still, but for their eyes screaming with fear and terror.

As much as I want to, as much as I need to know Justin is okay, I don't go with Brian. For one thing, I wouldn't have been able to keep up with him, even though he only has to go from the loft to his car. He is even faster than I was in coming over here.

For another, he is going to take Justin to that god-awful place we visited the other night, and I just _know _my presence will not be kindly looked upon.

Which means I'll either have to wait in the car, or walk home.

I've done enough travel by paw for a while.

I need My Coat.

_Brian's PoV_

I die the moment I lay my eyes on him.

Sprawled across the bed, flung backwards… his feet dangling off the edge… not moving… blood-stained blond hair…

I don't know if I cried, or screamed, or if I made any sound at all. I must have, because my throat was sore for days afterwards, hoarse… like it gets when you yell too much and too loudly in a smoke-filled Babylon… larynx stiff from grunting into yet another trick… the post-coital roach burning abused lungs…

Not positive, life-affirming in _any_way.

"Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god, no… please… Oh, God, no-no-no-no-no-no-no…"

I have him in my arms, rocking him against my chest, and I am scared. More motherfucking terrified than I have ever been in my life, and that's saying something. It all blurs. I can't tell whether I'm _still_ kneeling on a cold cement floor, or sitting in a shithole apartment he was never supposed to know existed, with his blood all over me again... fucking _again_…

I'm weeping, sobbing so hard, I don't at first feel it when he feebly moves in my arms.

"Brian."

I only hear him because he squeezes my hand weakly. His touch sends electricity sparking through my veins, adrenaline acting as a super conductor. The shock blows my nerve endings, and me into a heaving silence, mouth open wide, desperately sucking air.

Crystal depths leak with wild panic and fear, the pupils dilated to an inky blackness… _That's not good_… but, _fuck_, they are open, alive…

I start crying again, my tears soaking us both like his blood did the last time. But thank God, this time round… _another fucking round_… there is not so much red that my tears can't wash it away.

"Justi-…" I choke, and just hold him tighter, not able to get the words out. Not that it really matters. Of course he isn't okay. It's fucking stupid to ask.

How _not_-okay he is, he won't be able to tell me. I will have to wait until we get to the fucking hospital. I called the paramedics before I got out of the elevator at the loft, but they seem to be taking forever… too long… too _fucking_ long… My heart stops. I can't believe this is happening again, to him… to me… to _us_…

"Brian…" His hand is soft against my cheek, and I bury my face in it. I'm shivering… shuddering… It's so _fucking_ cold… Forgot my coat… My teeth are rattling, and I clamp my jaws shut…. But I can't breathe, my nose is too blocked up… I gasp….

"Sshhh… it's okay… I'm okay… see?" Justin takes my face in both his hands, stroking, caressing with sweaty fingertips to convince me. "Please…"

His lips tremble under mine. He is scared, not ever having seen me like this. That's the one good part about him not remembering anything about _that_ night... not having had to watch me go to fucking pieces.

I move my lips over his in languid strokes, doing my best to make soft sounds of comfort without going to pieces, _again_, swallowing his fear for him the only way I know how. Kissing him more gently than I have ever done. Not more gently than I have kissed _anyone, ever_, because there has never been anyone else. I never kissed anyone before I kissed Justin. I did a lot of tongue fucking… bruising… biting… thrashing… but Justin was _my_ first kiss, my fucking first _everything_, as I know I was… oh, God, no… _am_ his… _am-am-am-am-am..._

The shaking is getting worse, and I am not able to stop the tears, but I try... for him, I try. Taking deep breaths. Fighting for control over my sanity.

My heart, I can do nothing about. It hasn't functioned properly since the night I met him, either racing anxiously in my throat, or pumping desire into my groin. But its permanent state is thumping crazily in my chest, forcing the air from my body, and warming me with a tingling of sunshine, all the time…

I will do anything to move from the first state to the latter two, to have Justin back at the loft, where he belongs, my heart dancing according to its "normal" Justin-beat.

Shifting my focus away from the blue eyes I swear I will never let out of my sight again, I tilt my head to the side to get a look at the wound. He winces.

I don't want to hurt him, and I know moving must send flares through his brain, but I can't help myself. I cling to him.

"I'm sorry."

I don't think he hears me. I can barely hear me. But there is light pressure on my face, and I see him mouth "bullshit" before he closes his eyes.

"Sunshine," I say softly, carefully putting my nose to his, not liking the way he is going slack in my arms. His eyes flutter open. Even though I can see the movement causes him pain, he pulls my head down and kisses me, slow, lips softly touching, tongue tips brushing, whimpering…

"Justin, stay with me." His eyes look dreamy, a bit out of focus, and my chest constricts again. Where the _fuck_ are the paramedics?

His smile softens, but this time he doesn't open his eyes.

"Justin… Justin!"

"Mr. Kinney?" The nurse touches Brian's shoulder, trying to get his attention. He swings around, and for a moment her heart contracts. She's worked in ER for more than ten years, and she has seen and experienced humanity in all of its extremes… pain… joy… anxiety… fear… relief… despair…

But _this_. He is looking far worse than his partner, because _his_ eyes are open.

"The doctor will see you now," she says softly, not hiding the sympathy in her voice. Moving back, she indicates for him to go into the room he has been standing in front of for what feels like a thousand years.

Walking to the side of the bed opposite the doctor, Brian doesn't say anything, not trusting his voice to speak, not moving his eyes from Justin's face.

Finishing his report, the doctor looks up and smiles. "He is going to be fine, Mr. Kinney."

The relief flooding through him is palpable, and he grips the railing of the bed, one hand pushing into his tightly shut eyes.

"You're sure?" His voice is barely a whisper, and the doctor walks around the bed, concern lining his face as he looks closer at the hunched figure.

"Yes. He is a very lucky young man. That bat could have…" Brian sways, and the doctor takes a step forward. Taking him by the arm, he forces him to sit down in the chair behind him. He pours water from the pitcher next to Justin's bed and hands over the glass, although he isn't sure whether a badly shaking Brian is able to get any of it to reach his lips.

"Look..." The doctor bends down, aligning his eyes with tortured hazel ones. "I am not lying to you. He has a concussion, he is going to have a bitch of a headache, and he should take it slow for a couple of days. But there is no permanent damage and no aggravation of his old injuries. I have given him something to sleep, and he should be able to go home tomorrow."

The doctor searches Brian's face, looking for the tell-tale signs that he is about to get another patient.

Brian nods, and the doctor squeezes his shoulder when he gets up.

"I'm not even going to try and convince you to go home, though you look like shit."

Brian's head jerks up, a scalding retort forming on his lips. The doctor chuckles.

"Good. You'll live." Winking at Brian, he turns to leave. "I'll ask one of the nurses to make arrangements for you to stay the night."

Brian doesn't reply. The doctor doesn't expect him to.

Even though he _does_ look like shit, there is no denying that is one _fucking_ hot ass. But there is also no denying that he only has eyes for the blond patient. The doctor knows it will be a waste of time to try and catch Brian's interest, even though a good fuck is at the top of his prescription for his condition. It would bring some color to his cheeks, relieve some of the intensity of those dark eyes.

Slowly getting up, Brian makes his way to the bed. Grabbing Justin's hand, pressing it to his mouth, he leans forward, resting his head on Justin's chest. He closes his eyes, trying to hear the beat of Justin's heart through the sheet and clothing.

With a gasp, he exhales, his breath exploding from his lungs, his knees buckling under him as his weight settles on Justin.

"Brian?" Justin's voice sounds groggy, but his hand has already found the head under his chin, slowly stroking the dark hair.

Brian draws a shuddering breath. Not trusting his legs to hold him up, he remains where he is, on top of Justin, in a very good, life-affirming way.

"Fuck, Justin," he says in a strangled whisper, and the pressure on his head intensifies. "If you _ever _fucking do that to me again, I'll fuck your ass and your mouth so hard you won't be able to sit, stand, walk, eat, sleep, or talk to your mother for more than a month."

A soft pull on his hair finally makes him raise his eyes, meeting Justin's, not resisting when Justin pulls him closer.

"Do I have to get hurt before I can get all that?" Full lips start to tremble against Brian's mouth, shortly followed by a flood of tears.

Worse queens than Emmett, both of them.

"I'm sorry…" Brian opens his mouth to protest, but Justin cuts him off. "I know… bullshit… but it's not…"

"What happened?" Brian interrupts, not recognizing his own voice. Low and hoarse, it burns the back of his throat.

Justin continues to pat his face, and Brian turns his head to place a kiss in the soft palm.

"I'm not sure… walked in on this guy with a baseball bat. He was mad at Ian…" Brian purses his lips to keep from grinning, especially since he doesn't think Justin knows what he has just said. "…came at me with the bat… I was sure this time…"

Justin takes a shaky breath, and they are quiet for a long time, only white knuckles and fingers painfully intertwined saying what neither of them even wants to think about.

"Then Beam…"

Brian frowns. "Beam?"

"Yeah, he went with me… jumped him from behind… I think… couldn't really see… but there was movement, and a yell… noise… can't describe it. The guy screamed…" Justin sighs, carefully prodding the side off his head, grimacing. "I think he intended to do a bit more than _this_. Guess he got thrown off balance…" Justin says sleepily.

"Beam came to the loft. That's how I knew something was wrong," Brian says… _fuck, yes_… fondly. Fond of an orange fluff-ball. Him. Brian Kinney.

"You're fucking kidding me. Beam? _Our _Beam? From there to the loft?"

"I don't know how he did it. He must have been flying across town to make it in the time he did. He made this noise. Jesus, made my hair stand on end, like nothing I've ever heard before. Took him a while to explain. I was a bit slow on the uptake." Justin smiles at this, not saying anything about Brian not having corrected him on the "our Beam" comment. "But I got it eventually…" Brian's voice falters.

They fall silent again, and Brian is sure Justin has gone to sleep, when the slurry voice says, "Hold me?"

The ER nurse checks in on them half an hour later, and stands for a moment, smiling broadly as Brian's arm tightens around her patient, his legs draped over Justin's. They look like a couple of kids, Brian's mouth pressed against the boy's head tucked under his chin. Justin's face is turned into Brian's shoulder, and she grins at his smile. The picture of contentment... sleeping in one another's arms.

She softly closes the door behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

_Justin's PoV_

"What time do you think you'll be home tonight?" I run my mouth up Brian's throat, humming as he throws his head back, allowing me better access.

He is late for work, _very _late, and it is all my doing. I have finally allowed him to make it as far as the elevator, but I am having second thoughts about my decision.

He groans, and pulling the dark head towards me, I kiss him, tease him, brush his lips with the tip of my tongue between each word.

"… or… you… can… just… stay… home… with… me…"

He is breathing hard before I can say "stay," and I grin, deliriously happy.

"You know how much I want to." He kisses me back, tightening his grip on my hips, and with one leg shoved between mine, he keeps me pressed against him. Just like he did… God, is it really only a week ago?

I rub my crotch against his, sucking seductively on his earlobe.

"I know, and it's okay." Months ago, it wouldn't have been. I have learned a lot since then. As has he. "But you can't blame me for trying. I already miss your cock up my ass."

"Fuck, Justin, what are you trying to do? Give me a fucking heart attack?"

I give him a last kiss, searing and scalding and deep and languid. One that he will remember until tonight. He staggers a bit when I take my hands away, and I open the elevator grate.

"Hurry home, honey," I coo, my voice high-pitched and exaggeratedly sweet.

He snorts, I laugh, and the elevator moves down.

_Beam's PoV_

"Beam, we don't have much time."

Justin is standing in the middle of the room, slowly turning around, chewing his thumb. I swing my ears forward, tilting my head a bit as I wait for whatever it is he wants my help with.

He has been really, really weird the last couple of days, ever since that song played over the music box thing.

We were alone... Brian at work... and I watched him go chalk-white (not fucking _again!_). I know where Brian's offices are, but I was hoping I wouldn't ever need to summon him again. Justin started shivering, wrapping his arms around himself, and by then I was halfway to the door.

He saw me and called me back in a very strangled, very choked voice. He could barely get my name out.

I cautiously went to him, still not sure I shouldn't rather fetch Brian. He picked me up and started crying. Bawling. I mean, as in wailing his eyes out, his body shuddering with sobs. Much more than that last evening at Ewan's, and that was already disconcerting.

I got aggravated, because with his face pressed to my neck, he was getting me soaking wet, but he didn't let me go. I was seriously considering using my claws, for the first time for something other than playing with him, when he took me into the bedroom. Allowing me to jump onto the bed, he threw himself face down into the pillows.

He stayed like that for a very, _very_ long time, showing no signs of calming down, _ever_. He sounded different, though. It wasn't the desperate tears from a week ago. This was… happy? Not quite. Some happiness, some sadness.

I moved against him, pushing my nose against his clenched fists, and he laughed. He didn't stop crying, but he laughed and pulled me closer. I did what I knew always brought him comfort and kneaded the sheets, purring loudly, before I flopped down, almost on top of him, my back against his chest.

He stroked me and I closed my eyes, my paws still curling in the expensive sheets. I love the way they smell... of love and need and hunger and sex and sweat and want and soap and heat and desire and tobacco and longing and passion and forever-ever-ever-kisses. They smell like Justin and Brian, and my home.

I was nearly asleep when he took a deep breath and whispered something about a surprise for Brian. He had finally stopped crying, and I yawned. With a contented sigh, I cuddled further into him, promptly falling asleep.

"Beam!"

I startle, not having realized Justin had continued talking while I was contemplating the stupidity of human complexities.

Jogging over to him, my tail held high, I weave in and out between his legs, making amends. He laughs, and on cue does the wiggle-petting over my back. My knees buckle, and still laughing, he sits down next to me. I have only so much dignity, and it doesn't take long before I flip over to my side, curling and arching as I stretch my spine along the hardwood floor. He rests his hand on my side, slowly weaving his fingers in and out of my long, white tummy hair, pinching his bottom lip between thumb and forefinger as he surveys the space around us.

"Do you think we've got enough candles?"

I glance over at the boxes stuck on top of one another in an out of sight corner and smirk. Enough? There weren't any left in the store.

"Beam, I'm serious! Everything must be absolutely perfect."

He looks worried, and I take a lazy swipe at his hand. We play for a bit before he gets up and walks to the boxes.

"Yes, I guess you're right. Now we just need to set them up in all the right places."

It's going to be a long day, if Justin's going to be this indecisive about everything he said he still needs to do. I trot over to the couch, to My Coat.

I was sleeping when they returned from the hospital the day after Justin got hurt, and tired from my Supercat acts of the previous day, I didn't hear them until the loft door had already opened.

Okay, I wasn't sleeping soundly just because of exhaustion. I had gotten a bit cocky in another alpha male's lair, and wasn't as courteous about my new accommodations as I should have been. Guess I should have asked about My Coat first, instead of just making myself very comfortable on it whenever Brian wasn't around. But, let's face it, there was no way he was going to say "yes."

At least I had Sunshine on my side. He knew I was either sleeping on My Coat, or in bed with them, on Justin's side. There is more than enough room for the three of us. Justin and Brian could fit into a crib, the way they wrap around each other at night.

Brian would get up in the morning, and Justin would sneak over to the couch, quickly brushing off any hairs I might have gotten on My Coat. Somehow Brian didn't notice that his coat wasn't safely put away in his closet every night, but waiting neatly draped over the couch every morning.

Brian hadn't been home since I came to get him the previous afternoon, and my nerves were in tatters. I didn't know what was going on... whether Justin was okay. I was exhausted, my paws hurt, and there was nothing else I could do but curl up and go to sleep.

Apparently a very deep sleep, because they caught me completely off guard when they came home about 24 hours later.

My nerves singed at the loud slam of the door. I screamed in fright and launched myself on all fours, straight into the air, coming down in an arch that had me skidding halfway across the loft when I landed, paws slipping from underneath me as I twisted on the smooth wood. I did keep enough of my wits about me not to use my claws for leverage. I was sure to leave marks and Brian would _kill _me.

Not that I expected much of me would be left for a second round of scolding, since he caught me well and truly with my whiskers in the bowl of cream.

I was shivering and making small whimpering noises in fright. Embarrassed at the horrific display of weakness, I cringed and crawled low on my belly behind the curtains.

It wasn't one of my finer moments.

I listened to Brian putting Justin to bed, their murmurings too low for me to make out any of the wording over the blood rushing in my ears.

"Beam."

Brian's voice was raspy, but he didn't sound angry. Merging with the floor, I dared a peek from underneath the draping of cloth, watching anxiously as he came towards me. His shoes stopped a short distance away.

"Beam, come here," he instructed, even more quietly. I weighed my options. There weren't a lot of them. I could stay where I was and die of hunger (there aren't many mice running behind the curtains in Brian Kinney's loft), or I could make a run for it... which, with the loft door closed, might prove a bit problematic, even for Beam the acrobat. Especially since Beam the fast-footed wasn't so sure-footed at that time. Or, I could face my judge and jury, 'fess up to my crimes, and take my punishment like a big boy.

I slipped forward until my head was out from under the curtain, meeting Brian's eyes. They were red and bloodshot and he looked like my paws felt... raw and hurting.

"Beam," he sighed and sat down on the couch, next to the black and (by now) whiskey-colored coat. He closed his eyes, and I saw the tremor around his mouth when he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Hugging myself to the floor, I moved cautiously, until I was just outside of his reach. I did my Sphinx impression, but didn't take my eyes off him for a second.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything, then he patted the seat next to him twice… on the coat. The question formed in my throat before I could stop it, and he gave me a tiny smile.

"Yes."

I stared at him for a moment longer before jumping up next to him, whimpering when I felt the added damage on my paws from my recent antics.

I slowly circled a couple of times before lying down, and tucking my front paws under my breast, I looked up.

He was watching me, still smiling, and I tilted my head at him.

I didn't expect the gesture, and I almost jumped again when his hand came down and one finger stroked slowly up and down my nose and forehead. His lips moved, but it might have been just wishful thinking on my side to think I heard "thank you."

Justin's sleepy voice called from the bedroom. Brian stood up and looked down at me.

"He wants to see you."

I hesitated, automatically licking a paw while I thought about moving again.

Brian frowned, and leaning down, took my paw softly between his fingers. "Shit."

I was in his arms and next to Justin on the bed before it registered that he had picked me up.

I got to stay with Justin in bed after that. Brian said, fuck if he was running around for both of us.

"Justin?" Brian calls, frowning as he slams the door shut behind him. The loft is in darkness except for… shit… it looks like the fucking Milky Way... candles on the floor, on the… the furniture has been moved? "Justin! What the…"

"Ridiculously romantic enough?"

Brian's breath catches, and he freezes, eyes riveted on Justin walking down the bedroom steps, dressed in a black tuxedo, white… silk… scarf... that smile…

Brian swallows hard, a couple of times, and even then his voice is only a whisper.

"What…?"

He stops in front of Brian, and slowly slipping his finger up the lapel of Brian's jacket, he leans forward, hot breath caressing the shell of Brian's ear.

"I thought you wouldn't be caught dead in a room full of eighteen-year-olds…"

Brian's blood turns to ice, his eyes wide in disbelief as Justin pulls back, looking at him with a trembling smile. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, moving his lips almost mechanically when Justin's mouth brushes against his.

"…But I thought you might not mind sharing a room with a nineteen-year-old."

"Justin?"

An almost imperceptible nod.

Heat rushes over him... hot, melting lava... making his skin crawl, his extremities prickle, his knees weak. "Oh, my God…"

Justin pulls back, smiling broadly, wet cheeks glowing in the soft candlelight. "It's all back… " His voice breaks, and he sniffs, then laughs. "The doctor can't really explain it, who the fuck cares, but thinks that somehow the latest addition of bumps to my head…" His voice trails off at the look on Brian's face. "Brian?"

Brian shakes his head, and crushing Justin to him, he buries his face in the crook of his neck. Justin's hands disappear into the dark hair, stroking softly, rubbing his neck, waiting.

Eventually, he feels the pressure against his throat ease up.

"Brian, it was the best night of my life, but it could have been better." Tenderly gripping Brian's hair, he forces swimming hazel eyes to meet his. "I wanted to spend that night with you, be with you…" He blushes. "Everyone always talks about the Prom after parties. Mine was, well… a bit shitty. It's supposed to be… True, it wouldn't be my first time to get fucked…"

This gets a snicker from Brian, and Justin smiles, more confident now.

"But it is a night that I wanted… I want to share so many first times with you."

He turns around, looking at the loft, bathed in candlelight, before casting a nervous glance in Brian's direction.

"It's a bit much, I know, but I couldn't get a disco ball," he says, sheepishly, and Brian gives a low laugh.

"Sunshine." He tips Justin's chin up, kissing him deep. "It's… ridiculously romantic."

Justin breaks away from the kiss, panting for breath.

"Your tux is laid out on your bed, Mr. Kinney," he says with a wicked grin. "I suggest you get dressed. You're not getting any younger."

"Twat!"

Justin jumps out of the way of the hand aiming for his butt, laughing.


	13. Chapter 13

_Daphne's PoV  
>Early the next evening, Thursday, Woody's<em>

"Justin!" I say, irritated, and poke him in the ribs for good measure. It's been damn near impossible to have an intelligent conversation with my _best _friend throughout the entire half an hour we've been sitting in Woody's, but him suddenly turning his back on me is fucking ridiculous.

"Justin!" I try again, poking harder this time, but fuck if he isn't now completely ignoring me. Which means... since there is only one thing, one person that can get Justin this distracted… I lift myself up on the barstool to look over his shoulder and can't keep from throwing my hands in the air when I spot Brian, as expected, making his way through Woody's happy hour crowd.

Brian has barely managed to push three guys daring to stand in his way aside when Justin flies towards him. I watch as Brian's arms tighten around Justin, almost lifting him off the floor, and swallow hard at the tears rising in my throat.

It's not the first time I see Justin lit up like he has the sun blazing at noon inside him, but it is the first time I see Brian shining even brighter.

_Jennifer's PoV  
>Thursday evening, Allegheny General Hospital<em>

It's not so much that I liked Ethan that much more than Brian, since I didn't get to know him well enough as a person. But Ethan's age weighed heavily in his favor, and Justin looked happy enough for me not to have the urge to probe too deeply. I was relieved, convinced Ethan was the best thing that had happened to my son in a long time… even though I secretly also knew that, in his own way, Brian really did care for Justin, and Justin leaving him wasn't nearly such a casual event as he made it out to be.

I'll admit Justin's reaction when I mentioned Brian (the day we were in the coffee shop and he introduced me to Ethan) bothered me, but I didn't pay my uneasiness much attention. Ethan was his own age, and that overruled almost everything else. That and his only reputation being that of an excellent violinist, with drive and ambition.

I found him charming, openly affectionate, but respectful of my presence. Anything but crude and... and passionate and lusting after my son. But while it was clear Ethan was infatuated with Justin, it wasn't like - I can't believe I'm actually saying this - like I knew Brian loved him. There is sweet affection, and then there is being in love with so much abandon that the rest of the world can go fuck themselves.

Oh my God. Brian and Justin are barely back together, and already I sound like Brian.

I watch Brian's hand enfold Justin's while he presses his lips against my son's temple, his right temple, and somehow the simple gesture is so intimate that I find myself suddenly very interested in the creases of my blanket.

When I look back at them, it's to find Justin's face lit up as he gazes transfixed at Brian, with an adoration I never saw between him and Ethan. As for Brian? I watch as this drop-dead gorgeous, extremely dangerous predator melts, losing himself in my son's smile.

I take a deep breath, knowing I can't avoid the truth any longer. Brian Kinney is good for my son... almost as good as Justin is for him.

Brian catches my eye over Justin's head, and for a moment we just stare at each other. He looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it and bites his lip instead.

It's not the first time I see that look, that moment of vulnerability, and I feel myself smile as I nod at him.

I know. He doesn't have to tell me again. I know he cares about… _loves_ Justin. More than Ethan ever could.

_Ted's PoV  
>Friday morning, Diner<em>

Judging from Debbie's reaction, I must be the first to know Brian and Justin are back together, _again_. Whoo-hoo for them.

They arrived at the diner shortly after I did and joined me in the booth in the back without so much as a glance my way. In fact, they probably didn't notice me at all and only graced me with their presence because it was the only open seat in the diner. They were completely caught up in each other, more so than I had ever seen them before in all the years since Justin joined our happy little family. In other words, they were _this_ close to fucking right there.

Brian had moved up against the wall and pulled Justin after him until he was leaning with his back against Brian's chest, one of Brian's legs stretched out between Justin and the bench. Brian didn't waste any time wrapping his arms around Justin, tilting his head upwards, and sticking his tongue down Justin's throat.

Standard Brian-Justin, nothing new.

That was until Justin placed his hands over Brian's, and Brian looped Justin's fingers with his, in clear sight of the entire diner. It's one thing for Brian to be seen grabbing someone's groin or groping their ass in public (Justin especially was always a very enthusiastic volunteer), but it's another thing altogether to see him _holding hands_. Palm to palm, fingers curling in the way lovestruck couples can't refrain from doing. In the way Emmett and I did until not so long ago.

And that's when Debbie arrived. She took one look at our favorite slut - I mean, _stud_- or what little was visible of him behind Justin, and I swear I could see her gum when her mouth dropped.

That was one of the very few times I've seen her speechless, which is why I'm surmising I'm the first to witness the rekindling of Brian's lust for Justin. She would sure as fuck have known if Michael knew already. To Debbie's credit, she recovered quickly, but her "What can I get you boys?" was subdued.

Her shock made me laugh. Imagine me, Brian's best non-friend, being the first to find out that apparently these two had sorted out their differences of cock, _again_... and were fucking, _again_. Go, me.

Debbie and I had both called their names twice before Justin looked up at her, glassy-eyed and ruffled and definitely very freshly fucked. They couldn't decide on their order, mostly because Brian kept distracting Justin by not keeping his hands above Justin's waist. In the end, Debbie rolled her eyes, snapped her gum, and with a resounding "Jesus Christ" turned towards me. Ah, that's our Debbie. Always so eloquent.

That was several minutes ago. I shift, trying to get comfortable enough to watch the show - no one can deny that they are the hottest fags in Pittsburgh - when pain shoots up from my lower back. I curse, evidently loud enough that Justin actually pulls away from Brian to turn his attention to me.

"Ted? You're okay? How's your back?"

"Fabulous," I answer sarcastically, and at once feel bad. Justin isn't Brian. He's never been anything but nice to me. "Sorry, Justin," I mumble, avoiding his eyes as I shake two Vicoset into my hand. I swallow them with a mouthful of cold coffee and can't help but think of the bottle of Vodka I have at home. The pills seem to work so much better when I take them with something stronger than water. I force a smile at Justin, and he gives me a sickeningly upbeat "It's okay" grin.

At least, I like to think the smile is meant for me, and not just in reaction to Brian biting his neck and whispering something inaudible that makes Justin blush, giggle, and slap Brian's arm. Brian laughs – actually _laughs_– and tugs on Justin's hand until he gets up on his knees on the bench and turns around to be face to face with Brian. Make that tongue to tongue.

Jesus, they really are going to fuck right here. I quickly take inventory of everything on the table. Napkins, salt and pepper shakers, cream pitcher, knives, forks, and my coffee cup… nothing Brian can't afford to replace if he sweeps it all aside to make room for Justin on top. So to speak, of course.

The thought of Brian Kinney on his back, Justin poised between his legs… Numbness slowly spreads through me, and I give a sigh of relief as I feel my muscles finally relax… That will be a first, Brian going bottom's up... for a _twink_… mmm… on the subject… twinks… wonder how Blake is doing…

I squint at the tangled mess of limbs across from me. They're progressively growing more and more out of focus, but even so, they do look happy. With a groan that doesn't catch Justin's interest again, I lean back against the green vinyl and close my eyes.

Whatever the fuck… fuck 'em all… wonder where's Em… need to tell him 'bout Justin… Brian… at least someone is happy...

Figures it would be asshole Kinney.

_Michael's PoV  
>Friday afternoon, Red Cape Comics<em>

The bell above the door jingles and I look up, glad for the distraction of having to help a customer rather than doing end of the month reconciliation.

"Hey," Brian says with a quick smile, and I grin back.

"This is a surprise." He doesn't lean in over the counter for the usual "hello" kiss, but he looks distracted, and I let it go. "Haven't seen you around for a while," I remark instead.

He shrugs and peels off his gloves. "Busy."

"Tell me about it." I gesture at the books spread over the counter. "Fuck, I hate-" The ringing of his cell phone interrupts me. He yanks it from his coat pocket in a hurry, glances at the screen, and holds up a finger in that goddamn "just a minute" gesture of his. Immediately, I'm irritated.

He turns away from me to answer the call, but not before I see the sudden change in his facial expression when he greets whoever is on the other side of the line. Changing in a way I can't recall ever having seen before. I try to pinpoint the emotion I got a fleeting glance at but can't come up with an accurate description. Ben would know.

Minutes later, he snaps his phone shut, turns back, and slightly cocking his head to the side, stares at me in the strangest way.

"What's going on?" I ask, confused.

A weird combination of nervousness and anticipation runs through me. This isn't how his usual drop-ins play out. His face looks the exact opposite now than it did just before he answered his phone. Almost expressionless. Whatever news he got must be huge, since he only goes blank like this when he hides very strong emotions. Or rather, tries to. It's not like he can bullshit me. The anticipation in my stomach turns to anxiety as he keeps silent, just keeps staring at me, biting his lip, rubbing the back of his neck…

This is not good. "Brian? What's wrong? Is it Gus? Oh my God, it is, isn't it?" Frantically, I storm out from behind the counter, but he stops me with a hand against my chest before I can grab him and lead him to the sofa in the back.

"That was Justin," he fucking _finally_ answers. He is still looking at me, not blinking once, and I'm completely taken by surprise when his face unexpectedly cracks into a huge smile. Dropping his arm, he walks up to the counter and leans his hip against it, with the phone still in his hands. He doesn't say anything else, just plays with the phone, turning it over and over, sporting a grin wider than I have seen in months.

It takes me a moment to connect the dots, to work out the implication of Brian suddenly beaming like a goddamn idiot after having spoken to Justin on the phone, but when I finally do… I can't help it. Blame it on my half-Italian, half drag-queen genes. And having seen my best friend go to fucking pieces when Justin left him for the fucking fiddler.

"What the fuck? Brian, for God's sake, what the _fuck_ are you-"

He holds up his hand to tell me to shut the fuck up, but it's his voice that makes me forget what I was going to say. He has only sounded like this once, just before his right fist met my left eye. Right after I told him Justin hadn't been worth saving... that he should have left him with a gaping wound to the head, on the parking garage floor, bleeding to death.

"Michael, don't." Not a trace of the smile now. "Let it go."

Let it go? Is he fucking kidding me? I can't let him do this! I can't sit back and just watch while Brian begs to have his heart broken again! So he's fucking Justin. Again. How long will it take _Boy Wonder_ to leave him this time? And guess who will be picking up the pieces, _again_?

"Brian, look what happened the last time! You can't-"

"Michael. I said, let it go." He straightens up and takes a step closer to me. "I'm not asking for your permission."

The insinuation is clear, and I lose what little self-control I have left. Fucking arrogant prick! Who the fuck does he think he is? "And what about the fiddler? Is Justin now fucking around on him like he did with you?" I know that's a low blow, but Jesus Christ, he's my best friend, even if he is an asshole. Stupidest friend as well, falling for a blond twink's bullshit, but still my friend. I don't want to ever see him get hurt again. Not by Justin, not by anyone.

"It's over," he answers with a calmness that makes me want to shake him so hard he can feel his teeth rattle. I'm seriously contemplating doing exactly that, when the doorbell sounds once more, and I freeze when I swing around and recognize the new arrival.

Justin. Of course.

He stops just inside the shop, looking from me to Brian. For a split second, he seems unsure... no doubt, because of me. I'm not exactly feeling very friendly right now, especially not towards him, and I know it shows. Ben says that's one of the things he loves most about me... I suck ass at hiding my feelings.

The next moment, Brian hurries past me to Justin, sidestepping the arm I put out to hold him back. I'm not done talking, but Brian shows no reaction when I call his name, and I clench my fists in annoyance. Justin has disappeared into Brian's arms, his head tilted back as he cups Brian's face. I can see his mouth move, but their voices are too low for me to hear the words. I'm fairly sure it's nothing I'd care to know, anyway. Feeling helpless, and even angrier because of it, I watch Brian lean in to kiss him.

Justin's hands slide around Brian's neck at the same time. His fingers move upwards, slowly stroking Brian's hair, and from Brian's stance, I know any moment now... On cue, he shoves his leg in between Justin's, and I swear I can see Justin's knuckles go white, tugging so hard on Brian's hair that clumps of it are visible between his fingers.

I know Brian's every move, from choosing a trick to fucking him senseless. Propped up against the counter, I cross my arms and wait for him to go through the motions. That will put Justin in his place. So what if he's the trick Brian has fucked more than once? It still doesn't mean…

It takes me even longer this time to comprehend what he has been trying to tell me all along. To acknowledge something does appear to be different about his body language, about him, _them_... the way Brian is holding him, touching him… _softer_, somehow…

And fuck if I don't suddenly feel like an intruder. Brian and Justin, making out like two horny teenagers - by now nearly fucking - in _my_ store, and I'm the one that's uncomfortable? I grit my teeth, agitated all over again, but this time more upset with myself.

I'll admit I'm intrigued… okay, more than intrigued. I want to stay and watch, be here when it all just turns into fucking again. But there's also the better part of my upbringing that wants to rush past them and get out of here. Let them have their priva-… _privacy_? Brian Kinney?

I snort at the absurd thought. There's not a fag in Pittsburgh that enjoys fucking in front of an audience more than these two do. Nevertheless, it doesn't feel right to hang around a second longer, and not just because Brian is my best friend. I shouldn't be here. No one should...

Just like no one was supposed to see Brian wearing a scarf, brown with dried blood, underneath his shirt.

I had just returned from Portland. That fateful afternoon at the loft when _I _was the one pushing Brian towards Justin, giving him shit about not going to visit him in the hospital, accusing him for not caring, for being too fucking selfish to do the one thing we all knew would make Justin happy.

God, I was so fucking clueless.

I had no idea. I didn't understand the look on his face when I mentioned Justin's name, just before he changed the subject and convinced me to go to Woody's instead.

But before we left, he insisted on taking a shower, and I couldn't help myself. I had to watch him get undressed, and so I moved closer to the shuttered doors for a sneak peek.

Jesus. Nothing could have prepared me for what waited on the other side. It freaked me out, seeing the scarf slid from around his neck. How he held it for a long moment before reluctantly dropping it to the ground. My mouth went dry and I turned away quickly, feeling guilty and horrified when I remembered everything I had accused him of just minutes before. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't, because he could never find out that I knew. I had no right to spy on him. Not even his best friend had the right to witness that much pain. Instead, I stopped giving him shit about his drinking and tricking and fucking around, and made sure he got home safely every night.

I wonder if Justin ever found out about the scarf.

Maybe that's the reason why I'm so weary of Justin. I'm not sure he really gets how much Brian loves him, and subsequently how easily he can hurt him, or how much. Christ, it's not as if even _I_ understood back then how much Brian loved him, and I'm his best friend. I've practically known him his entire life.

I focus again on the two people devouring each other in front of me, oblivious to their surroundings. They've moved in the meantime, and I can now see a part of Brian's face and Justin's back. Brian chooses that precise moment to lift his head and look at me, and for a long time we stand there, silently trying to stare each other down. I don't need Ben to translate the challenge in his eyes. His message is very clear, radiating from him as he possessively holds Justin's head under his chin.

Brian wins, of course.

I sigh and rub my hands over my face. Fuck knows, nothing good can come from this. Mark my words. They'll have their reunion fuck-fest, and not be seen in public - other than the backroom - for a few weeks, and then Justin...

Without another word, I grab my coat, toss Brian the store's keys, and leave.

It's fucking cold outside, and I rub my hands together before pushing them deep into my pockets. I don't like it, not one fucking bit, and I still don't quite trust Justin's sudden change of heart, but fuck... It has to be a first for Brian to look happier than I have ever seen him without the help of poppers, a guy attached to his cock, or a couple of bottles of Beam.

Guess I'm just going to have to get used to having Justin around again.

_Emmett's PoV  
>Friday evening, Babylon<em>

Even though I've been expecting it, I'm still caught by surprise when I spot them glued to each other on the dance floor. Finally! I mean, really! Meeting under a streetlamp? They are destined to be together!

"Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

"Yup, you are seeing it!" Ben chuckles. "The most historic reunification since Germany."

I laugh at that. I don't know about Germany, but Brian and Justin being back together is _fabulous_. They're so beautiful together. And Brian is almost fun to have around when Justin is in the vicinity.

I watch as Brian draws Justin even closer. I don't get how they're still able to move, their legs being the tangled mess that they are... or concentrate, since Brian doesn't stop kissing Justin once. Justin, for his part, is every bit as eager.

It's nothing new, seeing them this hot on the dance floor. But Brian's "I'm the top" arrogance was always evident when they were together before the fiddler, making it clear to everyone Justin was in his arms only because he _let _him. Not the other way around.

Until now.

It's not the first time that Justin got his man, but it is a first for Brian to publicly show he doesn't mind _being_ that man.

_Ben's PoV  
>Friday evening, Babylon<em>

He isn't good at hiding his feelings.

It's one of the things I love most about Michael... how his eyes always show what he feels, and right now... he's pissed, mostly at Justin I think, and torn in two.

Brian is back with Justin, and Brian is happier than I have ever seen him, too happy for Michael to be able to ignore it. He also knows he has never managed to make Brian glow like that, and he doesn't like it. For the first time, his best friend looks truly content, and for the first time, Michael is faced with the reality that Justin is here to stay. However fucked up their relationship may be... or whatever the fuck they're calling it these days... I'm convinced Justin is going to be in Brian's life, closer to Brian than Michael will ever be, for always.

I look back at the couple on the dance floor, beautiful in their oblivion of anyone around them, and I can't help but smile as I take Michael's hand in mine.

Everything is exactly as it should be.

_Blond hustler's PoV  
>Friday evening, Babylon backroom<em>

The change in the air is subtle, and I would probably not have noticed anything at all if the cock in my ass weren't such a bore. But it is, and instead of concentrating on the job _in _hand, I have let my mind drift amongst the tedious sounds and smells of fucking, which is why I feel their presence even before I see them.

Him. Brian Kinney himself, in all his reputable hotness.

Silence descends over the room, and my lust joins everyone else's as we all stare at them (except the oblivious asshole pumping into my ass). Involuntarily, my dick perks up to pay close attention when they make their way into the backroom, and I sigh in relief. Thank God. Finally some proper stimulation.

Brian has a slender-looking guy with him whose back is turned to me, the blond head blocking my view of Brian's face as they devour each other loudly. I swallow hard, salivating when I notice Brian's hands clench on the guy's very hot ass before momentarily lifting him up until his feet barely touch the floor. The gesture is accompanied by a low groan from Brian, echoed by his companion... a guttural sound of raw need. They're practically fucking already, but it's clearly about much more than just being horny.

Bit by bit, the lucky guy slides down Brian's body, eliciting another symphony of grunts. I can't help to feel a twitch of envy when Brian's hands move to tangle in the blond hair, skillful fingers knotting and scrunching it in slow-motion.

My breath catches and the john in my ass moans in delight, probably thinking it's his sorely lacking performance that's getting me all excited.

I remember those fingers… Christ, do I ever.

Brian immediately interrupted me that evening when I walked into his loft, curtly dismissing any niceties and making it clear he wasn't interested in getting to know me better. Except my body... and my hair. Definitely not my face though. He kept turning my head around to look away from him. I didn't mind. I stopped minding johns being indifferent, having kinks, giving me orders (or the other way around), and expecting all sorts of weirdness a long time ago. It's all part and parcel of my profession. The money's good, and the agency screens its clientele carefully. No one has ever hurt me. Not physically.

My attention returns to Brian's trick again. I can still only see his back, but it's enough to admire the lean frame, ass, the mop of blond hair, almost shaggy. Quite my type. In fact, he looks sort of familiar.

And then it suddenly hits me.

He looks like me... and if he looks like me, but he's not one of my colleagues... Brian is either really into blond and beautiful, going out of his way to pick up one similar-looking trick after another, or...

Or this is the original 'trick.' The one I was the substitute for.

These days, Brian is famous for more than his extraordinary fucking ability (a reputation very well earned, may I add). Everyone knows about the blond twink... the one that got fucked more than once – reportedly, a _lot_ more than one - and who, a few months ago, dumped the stud of Liberty Avenue in this very club. It was shortly after that historic event that Brian called the agency looking for a guy with longish blond hair, blue eyes, around 5 ft 8 in. I fit the bill and was sent to his loft.

I don't visit Babylon often. My clientele usually prefers more private visits, and I have never seen the famed Justin, but there is no doubt in my mind that this must be him.

My suspicions are confirmed when they 'walk' closer to where I am propped up against the wall. This definitely isn't just some trick Brian picked up for the evening.

Brian doesn't kiss. Even if it wasn't common knowledge all across Liberty and beyond, I know from first-hand experience. But this guy? This guy's being kissed off his feet. Literally. I watch Brian's arms encircle the narrow waist, his hands firmly planted on Justin's lower back, holding tight.

The guy behind me grunts and I suddenly remember the $200 in my pocket. Dutifully, I drop my forehead against the cold tiles, bracing myself as I give a low moan and put the hot couple out of my mind. I'm working, I've got a job to do. Or, rather, a job is being done on me.

Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention again, and eagerly I turn my head. At last, some distraction, some hot fucking to watch, since the action I'm currently involved with will never make it to the porn awards. Unless it's for lack of inspiration.

It takes a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust to the low light in the corner next to me, but when it does, my stomach drops.

It's them.

Justin's back is pressed up against the wall, hands moving underneath Brian's shirt as he pulls him closer. Brian shifts, parting Justin's legs with his knee, his hands cupping Justin's face. They're kissing and laughing and whispering, more wrapped up in each other than I had ever thought possible for two people to be. Brian leans back a bit, only enough to brush Justin's hair from his forehead before kissing the tip of his nose.

They are close enough to where I am for me to notice the fleeting tremble around Justin's lips, and swallowing hard at the sudden emotion rising in my throat, I close my eyes. Not quite the kind of impersonal action I was hoping for. I push back against the cock in my ass, wishing the john would get the fucking hint, speed up his pathetic attempt at fucking me, and get his rocks off so we can say our sweet goodbyes.

Moments later, I open my eyes, not able to keep ignoring them. Both of them have their jeans pushed halfway down their hips, and Brian is draped around Justin as he thrusts. He is moving slowly, rocking back without breaking contact with Justin's mouth. I don't have any doubt that their kiss is deep, as slow a tongue-fuck as Brian pulling out, pushing back in.

My heart plunges like a rock into my stomach at the emotion radiating from the tilt of their faces, Justin's turned upwards over his shoulder, the gentle fingers caressing, and I force myself to just focus on watching Brian's ass. His thigh muscles clench as he buries himself inside Justin, eliciting small sounds from his partner. I can't even begin to imagine what that must feel like.

Justin reaches back, fingers trailing the side of Brian's face slowly, and their rhythm slows down even more to long, languid strokes. Deep strokes. I've never seen two bodies more in harmony. I've definitely never experienced anything like it for myself.

Brian's hands make their way around Justin's hips, folding around his dick as he starts jerking him off to the same beat to which he is sliding in and out of his ass. Justin's head is thrown back against Brian's shoulder, mouth hanging open as he alternates between fucking Brian's fist and pushing back onto his cock.

I grit my teeth. I've got a job to do, and fuck if I'm going to be here all night because me and Mister Fabulous behind me don't have chemistry and heat and passion flaring off of _us_. Memories of my night with Brian cloud my mind and flood my body. Adding to the vivid imagery the imprint of what I'm witnessing now, I use every trick in the book to force my trick to the heights of ecstasy he paid for... knowing his is maybe a foot off the ground, whereas Brian and Justin leave orbit tangled together.

My own orgasm is only an automatic reaction to the obligatory grip around myself. My heart just isn't in it.

Brian turns Justin around, and I stare, unabashed, at long, white streams lazily running down the tiles behind Justin, their still hard cocks bumping off each other as Brian takes Justin into his arms. They're both shivering. Brian cradles Justin's head against his shoulder and buries his face in Justin's neck, but not before I see the love and adoration radiating on his face. Hiding from curious and lustful eyes, hiding in each other. Justin's hands creep up on Brian's chest, palms resting flat as he cuddles closer. Brian's arms tighten, the perfectly sculpted biceps flexing. Low noises come from them, voices fusing into a song I'm better off not understanding.

I pull up my pants and take a deep breath. I glance at them one more time. Brian's fingers are trailing the contours of Justin's face, Justin's holding his wrists, thumbs rubbing small circles on sweaty skin. They're smiling widely, motionless, staring at each other… melting into each other as Brian leans in for a kiss. Their bodies become a blur, I don't know where one begins and the other ends.

This must be a first, I think to myself, listening to the echoing of sucking and fucking all around me as I follow my john out of the backroom.

Brian Kinney, making love in the backroom of Babylon.

~ FIN ~


End file.
